No rest for the wicked

I come in to the house and there is chaos. It is sitting at the edge of the cliff waiting for my arrival to escalate. It begins with my youngest spotting me. He writhes in his high chair. Surely in his mind he is wondering when I am going to pick him up. I choose to hang up my jacket and take off my work shirt. My other kids run over to me and give me a kiss. I walk around in my work pants for a little while. My youngest was not fond of me leaving without kissing him. He screams his little head off. I scramble back as soon as possible. He has not been feeling to well lately. I remember hating when my kids are sick. I just feel so helpless.

They are not letting me write anymore. I will talk to you later. Thanks.