It was nighttime, they were going through a power outage. The father had had enough, the kids needed their mother, and so did he. It took a couple weeks, the popping of a red balloon the girl was playing with, and everything was packed. They left the small town of Fresno, California, and headed to Ft. Bliss, Texas. Hours later, the kids woke up, and it was nighttime. Wait, wait, I forgot something.
Two weeks before the mother boarded the bus, there was an accident. The kids had been climbing the bunk bed, and when the girl jumped up, the bed tipped over, with her clinging to the side. She went by unhurt. Except for the time she was climbing the candlestick telephone at her grandmothers house, it fell on top of her, now her head is covered in staples.
Okay, as I was saying. It's nighttime, and they are pulling up to white gates. A few minutes later, they pulled up to a whiteish house, there was a figure standing out front. It was the mother. The ids were taken inside, the beds and rooms already (mostly) made up. The girl had the big room, the boy had the small. They fell asleep, leaving the parents to do as they wished.