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“But it’s weird, Joe.”
Tell me about it.
“He’ll get there in his own time,” I replied.
"You're wasting your time with that one, Ols," Tadhg grumbled from the bathroom doorway. "That baby is broken in the head. He’s going to be three in October, and he can't even talk yet."
Yeah, because he’s been knocked around the head more times than you have fingers to count.
"You'll be broken in the head if you talk about him like that again," I snapped. "Besides, you were almost four before you could wipe your own hole, so don’t get all high and mighty on me."
"I was fucking not!" Tadhg huffed, outraged.
“Watch your language, asshole,” I warned. “And yeah, you were.”
“What?” Tadhg’s mouth fell open. “But you just called me an ass—“
“I’m older than you.” I smirked. “I can say what I want.”
"I was two when I learned to use the toilet," Ollie, chimed proudly. “And you're not 'posed to say the F word, Tadhg."
"Oh look," Tadhg shot back sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Another brother who can't talk right."
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“Say supposedly.”
“Su-pose-ably.”
“Exactly.”
"Pack it in," I warned, tossing a roll of toilet paper at him. "And you," I added, addressing Ollie this time. "Wash yourself properly this time. You could grow cabbages in those ears."
“I could?” His eyes lit up with delight. “Really?”
Jesus.
“No, not really, ya dope,” Tadhg replied, verbalizing my thoughts aloud. “Christ, where did he even come from?”
“Mam’s privates,” Ollie replied with a shrug. “Same as you guys.”
“Privates?” Tadhg gaped at our younger brother. “Who the hell says that?”
“Well, it’s really called a regina,” Ollie replied happily. “Shannon’s got one, too, you know. That’s what my teacher said girls got down there. And we’re ‘posed to use the proper word for it.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the fuck up.” I cocked a brow and stared at my brother. “Your teacher told you that?”
“Uh-huh.”
I gaped. “But you’re barely nine.”
“Yep.” He nodded. “She was teaching us all about the reginas at school before the summer holidays. And the penises. They’re the birds – the girls, I mean. The boys are the bees, ‘cause we sting, you know.”
“It’s called a vagina, not a regina, ya little freak,” Tadhg grumbled, clutching his stomach. “Get out of the way, Joe, I need to puke.”
“Seany poos,” a small voice squealed in delight, thankfully drawing my attention away from the strangest child I’d ever encountered. “Seany poos, Dada!”
“He’s not your dada!” both Ollie and Tadhg said in unison. “He’s your brother.”
