At bedtime the boys go nuts. They are like ping pong balls set loose in a room of corners. They have no center other than each other. Energy ricochets. I ask them to stop. My voice bounces off their rubber ears. There is no hearing. And the kettle inside me boils over and in seconds I am taking away screentime and tv shows and paintball afternoons we haven’t even planned.

And I know I am the crazy one now, not them. And still I cannot help myself.