“James! Fucks sake I said sit down. Oh Jesus, not you too Arch.” My feeble attempts to calm my kids down echo through the Riley household—seemingly going as ignored to them as my mother’s fuckin’ allocated time-slot for church.

Riley barks and chases after the boys like the good German shepherd he is so I can focus on my little girl. The tiny, two-year-old was pampered and dressed by her mother—a tiny baby blue, chiffon, poofy princess dress and two perfect little pigtails made out of her blonde locks. “Look at you, Dove, my proper little princess aren’t you?” Hoisting her up, I make my way upstairs to make sure the boys have actually began showering—the dirty, stinky ragamuffins have been tapdancin’ on my last nerve like their Lionel Blair in his fuckin’ prime.

“This nutcase family is doin’ my bloody head in.” I mutter under my breath. “Absolute nutters, the lot of em’”

Peeking into their shared room, I hear the shower from the kids’ bathroom running and Archer sat on his bed. “James in the shower?” Likely but you can’t be sure with the hellions I managed to spawn—only giving a satisfactory grunt when Archer nods. “Good lad, you get your manky arse in there next, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, lieutenant!” He grins, giving me a salute; Son of Mary, it was like being in the barracks again, wasn’t it?

I give a hefty sigh, causing Harper to squirm in my arms, “Let’s go check that your ma’s ready, yeah?” And as usual, just like her sons, my wife was not in fact ready yet still looked as chipper as a clam so really, I can’t complain. “Dear God, woman, I sent you up here three hours ago.” I grumble.