"Joe! Where's dinner?" Marv yells as he walks through the entrance of the Galleon. Joe rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop stirring the large pot simmering on the stove.
There's no response from Joe, which Marv has come to expect. He instead focuses on putting down the five year old in his arms. Two seconds later when Luka tears off across the room, Marv regrets it.
"Luka!" He yells. "Get back here right now!"
The reply is just a mischievous giggle coming from another room. Either the bathroom, or the main bedroom - Luka instinctively knows which places to go to cause the most trouble. Marv hadn't even known you could get so much toothpaste out of five tubes. That was when Joe had stopped bulk-buying groceries to get them cheaper.
A completely different giggle sounds from the playpen, and Marv looks over to see Ahim sat playing with a stuffed kitty, waving it around happily. Third time's a charm, he always says. He hasn't a clue how he and Joe managed to get it right after the first time - adopting Luka, the most hyperactive child in the known universe, and the second time - Don, the sissiest little boy Marv has ever known. Right now he's probably out there in the kitchen with Joe, helping him make dinner. Don is actually a better cook than Joe anyway, even at three years old. Which is scary, but Marv keeps his mouth shut because food is food.
Marv walks over to the playpen and peers over. Ahim beams up at him, and offers her kitty.
"No, you keep it," he says, smiling. "Joe! Where is dinner?! I'm hungry!"
"Pops!" Don says, coming out of the kitchen, arms wide for a hug. "I'm helping!"
"Are you now, you little scamp?" Marv asks. He ruffles Don's hair, scoops him up into his arms. Okay so Don's a bit of a sissy, so what. Marv can't help loving the kid anyway. He's going to grow up to be a masterchef, and Marv is going to eat all of his creations.
Ahim watches the two of them as Don beams in Marv's arms. Her eyes tear up.
"Oh no," Marv says, "No no no, come on!"
He has two arms, plenty of room to hold them both. It's nearly time for dinner anyway, he's sure, so he walks over to the table and plops Ahim into the highchair. Don and Luka both have little booster seats on their chairs to get them to the right height to eat at. Luka's chair also has straps to keep her in her seat. Nobody likes to remember the time she fell off and broke her tiny arm. She was the only one who found it funny. Ahim had cried for hours, and Marv didn't even know she could understand what was going on.
"Here," Joe says, coming out of the kitchen and unceremoniously dumping a plate in front of Marv. He acts all cold, but Marv knows what a bomb Joe is between the sheets really. This is just his way of asking why they can't pass all the cooking duties off to Don already, except he won't actually say it out loud because Don is three years old (and better with open fires than Marv).
"Luka!" Marv yells. "Dinner is ready! Get your butt in here!"
When Luka appears she is almost completely covered from head-to-toe in toilet paper. Marv glances at Joe.
"You didn't want her in our room again," Joe shrugs. "You know the other option."
tadaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
-
"Joe! Where's dinner?" Marv yells as he walks through the entrance of the Galleon. Joe rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop stirring the large pot simmering on the stove.
There's no response from Joe, which Marv has come to expect. He instead focuses on putting down the five year old in his arms. Two seconds later when Luka tears off across the room, Marv regrets it.
"Luka!" He yells. "Get back here right now!"
The reply is just a mischievous giggle coming from another room. Either the bathroom, or the main bedroom - Luka instinctively knows which places to go to cause the most trouble. Marv hadn't even known you could get so much toothpaste out of five tubes. That was when Joe had stopped bulk-buying groceries to get them cheaper.
A completely different giggle sounds from the playpen, and Marv looks over to see Ahim sat playing with a stuffed kitty, waving it around happily. Third time's a charm, he always says. He hasn't a clue how he and Joe managed to get it right after the first time - adopting Luka, the most hyperactive child in the known universe, and the second time - Don, the sissiest little boy Marv has ever known. Right now he's probably out there in the kitchen with Joe, helping him make dinner. Don is actually a better cook than Joe anyway, even at three years old. Which is scary, but Marv keeps his mouth shut because food is food.
Marv walks over to the playpen and peers over. Ahim beams up at him, and offers her kitty.
"No, you keep it," he says, smiling. "Joe! Where is dinner?! I'm hungry!"
"Pops!" Don says, coming out of the kitchen, arms wide for a hug. "I'm helping!"
"Are you now, you little scamp?" Marv asks. He ruffles Don's hair, scoops him up into his arms. Okay so Don's a bit of a sissy, so what. Marv can't help loving the kid anyway. He's going to grow up to be a masterchef, and Marv is going to eat all of his creations.
Ahim watches the two of them as Don beams in Marv's arms. Her eyes tear up.
"Oh no," Marv says, "No no no, come on!"
He has two arms, plenty of room to hold them both. It's nearly time for dinner anyway, he's sure, so he walks over to the table and plops Ahim into the highchair. Don and Luka both have little booster seats on their chairs to get them to the right height to eat at. Luka's chair also has straps to keep her in her seat. Nobody likes to remember the time she fell off and broke her tiny arm. She was the only one who found it funny. Ahim had cried for hours, and Marv didn't even know she could understand what was going on.
"Here," Joe says, coming out of the kitchen and unceremoniously dumping a plate in front of Marv. He acts all cold, but Marv knows what a bomb Joe is between the sheets really. This is just his way of asking why they can't pass all the cooking duties off to Don already, except he won't actually say it out loud because Don is three years old (and better with open fires than Marv).
"Luka!" Marv yells. "Dinner is ready! Get your butt in here!"
When Luka appears she is almost completely covered from head-to-toe in toilet paper. Marv glances at Joe.
"You didn't want her in our room again," Joe shrugs. "You know the other option."
-