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“Yeah right,” Ollie snorted, not one bit flailed by my empty threat.
“I mean it,” I told them. “And if ye even think about waking that baby, it won’t be me who spends another two hours rocking him back to sleep.”
“Oh please,” Ollie shot back. “Seany can sleep through anything.”
“Yeah,” I countered. “Lucky for him since he’s living with a pair of foghorns.”
“Why can’t I come down?” Tadhg whined. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Shannon gets to stay up – and don’t say it’s because she’s older than me, because that’s a cop out.”
“Because if I let you come down, then I have to let Ollie come down, and if I let Ollie come down, I have to let Sean come down,” I heard myself tell him for what had to be the seventh time. “And I’m not carrying all of your asses back to bed when ye pass out on the couch.”
“But Dad’s gone out for the night,” Tadhg continued to protest. “And Mam’s gone with him. This happens once a year, Joe. Once a damn year.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “So, fuck off up to bed like a good lad, and let me enjoy the peace and quiet for once.”
“This is bullshit,” Tadhg grumbled. “It’s only half ten.”
“We hates it when you babysit,” Ollie huffed, tripping over his words. “You’re the meanest. And boring.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because babysitting the three of ye is such a thrilling event for me, too.”
“Joey, please—"
“Bed,” I ordered, holding a hand up. “Keep fighting with me and neither one of you will see the inside of the GAA grounds for a week.”
“You can’t do that,” Tadhg protested. “You can’t ground us. You’re not our dad.”
“Yeah,” Ollie added, sidling up to Tadhg. “You’re nots the boss of us.”
“Oh, no?” I cocked a brow. “Keep pushing and I’ll add on another week.”
“But—"
“That’s three weeks.”
“This is bullshit,” Tadhg huffed, before disappearing from sight. “I liked you better when you were puking!”
“Yeah,” Ollie grumbled, as he hurried after Tadhg. “We hates you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sweet dreams, ye little fuckers,” I called back, waiting for the sound of their bedroom door slamming shut before heading back into the sitting room.
“Wow, I am so glad you’re here to crack the whip,” Shannon chuckled, when I sank down on the couch beside her. “They literallyneverdo what I tell them.”
“You can’t show weakness,” I explained, tossing her a bar of chocolate from my pocket. “Boys grouped up like that are like a pack of rabid dogs. They can smell fear a mile away, and the minute you bare your neck to them, they’ll go straight for the jugular.”
“Wow,” she mused, unwrapping her bar. “What an interesting parenting concept.”
“Don’t eat it like that, you weirdo!” Gaping in horror at the way my sister brutally savaged a KitKat bar, I grabbed the cushion behind my back and tossed it at her. “The fuck kind of serial killer are you?”
“What?” Cackling from her perch at the end of the couch, Shannon took another bite – straight down the middle without splitting it in half first. “It’s only chocolate.”
Shaking my head in disgust, I took a sip from the cup of tea she had made me earlier and muttered, “you’re a little psycho at heart, aren’t ya?”
“You’re in a lot better shape than yesterday,” she shot back approvingly. “I’m proud of you, Joe.”
“For what exactly?”
“For getting better.” Cheeks blushing, she squirmed in discomfort. “For staying home tonight when being here is the last place you want to be.”
