Bellyache. Weird. That's how my kids described the tearing pain that had crippled ancient gods.
“But you feel better now?” I asked.
“Yep!” Vero practically shouted. “My belly wants food!”
“Shh,” Lesya chided him. “Uncle Austin is right there.”
She pointed at Austin, who was lying on the rug before the dining hall's fireplace, his hat perched over his face.
“Uncle Austin is awake,” Austin's voice sounded hollow since he hadn't removed his hat to speak. He did so then and opened his eyes to blink blearily up at us. “What time is it?”
“Out time or your time?” I countered.
He frowned. “I think I missed work.”
“You had the day off,” I reminded him. “You told me last night.”
“Oh, thank God,” he muttered as he climbed to his feet. “And don't you dare ask me which god.” He pointed in my face before I could ask that very question. “It's been a game of Mess With the Human all night. I'm tired of all your god poop.”
“God poop!” Vero exclaimed.
My kids giggled.
“Thanks for that,” I said sarcastically to Austin.
“Hey, I was trying to be kid-friendly.” He shrugged. “Now, who wants pancakes?”
“I do!” My children and I declared together.
After I showed him around the kitchen, Austin started frying up some pancakes while I worked on coffee and juice. My kids prowled around Austin's feet, waiting for the pancakes to get put on a plate so they could snatch them up.
“Hey!” I chided. “Only one each, then you have to wait for them like civilized people.”
“He's cooking?” Trevor asked as he came into the kitchen.
“Daddy!” Vero exclaimed.
“Son!” Trevor exclaimed in a matching tone as he picked our boy up.
“I'm not the best cook, but I can manage pancakes,” Austin said.
“That works out perfectly since our family happens to love pancakes,” Trevor shot back. “Although, I think today I want some bacon too.”
Trevor growled and snapped playfully at Vero's belly. Vero giggled, then growled back.
“I'll handle the bacon if you handle the babies,” I offered.
“Deal.” Trevor snatched up Lesya with his other arm and carried the two giggling children out of the kitchen.
I went to the fridge and pulled out the bacon, then got out a baking sheet.
“What are you doing?” Austin asked me.
“I'm baking bacon.”
“You're s'posed to fry bacon.”
“Frying bacon is for fools,” I declared theatrically. “Put them on a baking sheet and bake them in the oven. They'll come out perfect every time.”
