Being the fun and entertaining uncle that I have been for the past sixteen years has been amazing. Conducting fun sleepovers where the boys don't need to clock in by eight or nine p.m. and be able to let out my childish side without being judged is my beach.
But being the responsible parent where I need to be the one cooking, dressing, making sure they are in school on time or go to bed early enough - it's fucking torture.
Remind me to never impregnate a woman. Ever.
"Come on Dy. You're sixteen, help me out, man!" I whine.
"Aren't you the parent tonight? I am just watching," he smirks.
I taught him well. Little shit.
"Watching what? Me killing the three of us tonight while your mother is birthing another little shit, just like you?"
"Or something like that!"
He plops down on the couch, placing his feet on top of the table. He is testing me tonight, he knows damn well his mother doesn't want him to do that.
"It's my turn to watch cartoons," Jeremy whines.
"Tough luck bro, I am watching my show." Dylan counters back, replacing the remote on the other side of the couch.
They've been at each other's throats all day and I swear I don't fucking know how the hell does my sister puts up with this.
I'll need to be carried out in a straitjacket by the time they're back. I am not kidding!
"Give me the remote, little shit!" Jeremy yells.
"Oh fuck! Jeremy, you can't say curse words, they're bad!"
"But you just said fuck!" He cocks his head to the side.
I sigh, exasperated.