That’s just what happened when two smartasses procreated I guess. If she weren’t also incredibly overprotective of him and willing to play with him despite their three-year age gap, and not to mention charmingly adorable, I’d call my eldest an unbearable smartass. “Because she’s got a baby in her belly, silly,” Beth said with a superiority she liked to lord over her brother whenever she could. Luke frowned at the disproportionate portioning. “Where do you put it?” I scraped most of the scrambled egg onto my plate but gave him the rest. My six year old had just eaten cereal, two slices of buttered toast and a handful of raisins for his breakfast. Luke immediately eyed the scrambled eggs Braden had left. “Bye Dad!” they yelled after him as he hurried out of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, babe, I’m late for this meeting.” He put his mug in the sink, leaned down to brush my lips with his and then rounded our kitchen island to kiss Luke and Beth on their foreheads. “You haven’t even had breakfast yet.” I frowned at the scrambled eggs and toast I’d made him.
Braden threw back the rest of his coffee.
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