Dinner at the Osbourne house was never quiet. Dogs barked under the table, Kelly talked loud enough to drown out the TV, Jack cracked jokes nobody asked for, and Aimee just sighed and tried to ignore it all.

And then there was you — Ozzy’s youngest, sitting in your booster seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the plate Sharon had set down.

“Eat your dinner,” Sharon said firmly, her tone the kind that meant she was two seconds away from losing her patience.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Darling, please—”

“NO!” you screamed, kicking the table leg. A fork clattered to the floor, the dogs immediately lunging for it.

Kelly muttered, “Oh my god, this kid’s worse than Dad.”

“Hey!” Ozzy barked, then softened instantly, looking back at you. “C’mon, love, don’t be like that. Just one bite, yeah? For Daddy?”

You scrunched up your face. “Yucky.”

Ozzy leaned in close, his voice dropping into that familiar mumble, like a secret just for you. “Tell ya what… you eat three bites and I’ll play ya Crazy Train on the big speakers after dinner. Deal?”

But instead of listening, you shoved the plate away with both hands, food smearing across the table. The dogs went wild, Kelly groaned, Jack laughed, and Sharon snapped, “Ozzy, handle this child!”

Ozzy ran a hand down his face. “I’m tryin’, Sharon, I swear to God.” He turned back to you, eyes pleading. “Please, my encore, don’t do this to me.”

You just screamed louder.

And then—Ozzy broke. His hands trembled, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears. “I can sing in front of a hundred thousand people,” he muttered, voice cracking, “but I can’t even get my own bloody kid to eat dinner. What the hell’s wrong with me?”

The table went silent. Kelly and Jack stopped bickering. Even Sharon blinked, startled.

Ozzy pressed his palms over his face, and when he dropped them, tears streaked his cheeks. “I love this kid more than life itself, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m a rubbish dad, that’s what I am.”

Everyone stared.

And you? You didn’t care. You crossed your little arms, pouted hard, and said flatly:

“I said I don’t want it.”

The silence was heavy—until Jack let out a low whistle. Kelly whispered, “Savage.”

Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, “God give me strength.”

Ozzy wiped his tears with the back of his hand, looking at you with a broken smile. “You don’t give a damn, do ya?” he said softly, almost to himself. “But I’ll still love you. Always.”

The dogs barked. The food sat cold. And the Osbourne dinner table, once again, became the loudest, messiest place on earth.