Omniscience or head-hopping?

I've suddenly got self-conscious - and consequently come to a stuttering halt - about some of the passages in one of my current wips as a result of hearing about the iniquities of head-hopping.  I thought this passage, dealing with the conversation, actions and thoughts of three adults and three children  worked fine until then, but does it transgress all grammar rules and thereby confuse the reader?

     In the sunny kitchen they [Sean and his son Michael] found Sally making breakfast for both girls, her own daughter in one of the baby chairs, and Rosy held on her hip, not exactly crying but clearly about to make more of a fuss;  an intent halted as soon as she saw Sean [her father], whereupon she jeopardised her security by attempting to launch herself in his direction.  Smiling at both her and Sally, Sean lifted his daughter to safety.  ‘Another hungry child – do they never stop?  Thanks Sally.’   His nod acknowledged that she had been busy, having also cleared the kitchen of the previous night’s detritus.

Occasionally, when Sean stood more than usually close, Sally found herself experiencing a tingle of appreciative awareness.  This morning, his sun-bleached hair tangled and flopping across his forehead and the blue-eyed ease of his smile confirming what the soap-powder freshness of his T shirt failed to mask, i.e. the lust-sweat odour of sex, her  response was considerably stronger.  
     When Michael said, ‘Auntie Sally, my Mummy’s all wore out and she has to stay in bed,’ she couldn’t help but direct a complicit glance at Sean, any more than she could help wondering what it would be like to have this man between her thighs, so different in many ways to his brother, but undoubtedly as able.  Which, in itself, was the teasing, occasionally tormenting, thing.   
     Not that she had any complaints about Christy [Sean's brother]. A little more briskly than intended, with a little less breath than expected, she told Sean, ‘Christy’s gone for some rolls, he shouldn’t be long – he thought he’d nip out while the boys were asleep to make it quicker.  There’s bananas if Michael’s really hungry.’
     ‘I don’t think he’ll starve … but this little girl might think she’s going to if we don’t feed her – is that okay with you Michael, we have to see to the girls first.  Would you like a banana?   You can sit outside and watch for Uncle Christy coming back, but don’t run off.’   
     Five minutes later Sean was more amused than he let on to hear Michael, too impatient to let Christy get within earshot before shouting ‘Uncle Christy, Daddy’s feeding Rosy an’ I’ve got a banana an’ Mummy’s all wore out in bed with no ‘jarmies on!’
    Christy grinned at him, ‘Have I missed all that while I’ve been gone to fetch the rolls – tomorrow it better be someone else’s turn!’   Handing Michael the bag he said, ‘Go and give that to Aunty Sally, and ask her has she got the coffee on?’  He followed the three year-old into the kitchen, and was immediately met with Sean’s now-hard blue stare, above the top of the chair in which Rosy sat, having cereal spooned into her.  It didn’t require his twenty-plus years’ experience to decode the several layers of Sean’s message, especially since Michael’s words had to some extent forewarned him.  Sally’s back being turned, he was able to ruefully acknowledge receipt while not entirely admitting guilt. Just as well Sean had found out, though, before it went any further, he’d known it was a stupid thing to have started.