“Of course he can, if he wants to. Grandma made lasagna.”
“Her lasagna issick,” Tyler says. “You don’t want to miss that.”
“I’m sold,” Gage says.
“Yes!” Tyler’s fist in the air pops into the rearview mirror.
“Homework and chores first,” I remind him.
He groans loudly.
“The faster you get your work done, the sooner you can build your model.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We pull into the garage, and Tyler launches out of his booster seat like he’s been shot out of a cannon, backpack dragging behind him.
Sophia, the helpful big sister, releases the latch on Laney’s seat that confounds most adults and helps her down from the car. They take off inside in hot pursuit of Tyler.
“Holy.Shit.”
Gage’s two-word summary cracks me up. “Just another day in paradise.”
“Is every day like that?”
“They went a little easy on me today.”
“How do you do it?”
“One minute at a time.” I look over at him. “No pressure on dinner and the model. I can help him with it.”
He raises a brow, his expression skeptical. “Have you ever built a model?”
“No, but I learn everything I need to know on YouTube.”
“It would take you four days of doing nothing but that.”
“No way.”
“Way. They’re crazy complicated, but I’ve got you covered. I told him I’d help him, and I’d never disappoint him.”
“Thank you.”
He looks straight ahead, seeming lost in thoughts, or memories maybe. “I’d forgotten.”
“What?”
“How intense kids can be. I remember the big things, like how Ivy liked dark chocolate and hated peanut butter, and Hazel would’ve eaten spaghetti three meals a day if we’d let her. But the questions, the bickering, the sheer insanity of it. I’d forgotten that, and I never wanted to forget any of it.”
“Mom! I can’t find the trash bags!” Tyler says from the doorway to the garage.
“I’m coming.” I look over at Gage, smiling. “Duty calls. I’m sorry if we made you sad.”
“It’s okay. I enjoyed listening to them. They’re delightful.”
“They can be.”