Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“I said no,” Nathan snaps, following Emily up the stairs.
She’s just like her father, just like him, in almost every single way; looks, stubbornness, sternness, playfulness and her determination is just crazy. When she wants something, she gets it. If she can’t get it, she’s sour about it for days and sits in her room brooding about it.
I face Dillan, who is currently leaning into the open fridge, spooning butter frosting into his mouth using his fingers. I grab the newspaper from the side and hit him on the back of the head with it.
“Mum,” he laughs, turning and giving me that easy smile that reminds me so much of Caleb. “What’s for tea? I’m hungry.”
“Stay out of the frosting,” I sigh, taking the tub from his hands and gasping at how much is missing. “I made this an hour ago!”
“I’m hungry! You never feed me,” he whines, running his fingers through his hair. The ones that he just used in the frosting.
Gross.
“You cheeky git, I fed you an hour ago,” I scoff, this time tapping him on the back with the newspaper.
“Yeah! She did! I remember,” Ashlyn says smugly, crossing her chubby arms over her chest and staring at her older brother with a sly grin on her face.
Now Ashlyn is all me.
Even I can’t deny the resemblance, from her dark hair and grey, green eyes to her pale complexion. She’s also only six, putting her almost ten years behind Dillan and eight and a half behind Emily.
Dillan scoops his sister off the ground and tosses her over his shoulder.
Ashlyn, whose personality is like mine, just sighs and rolls her eyes. “I wish you’d stop doing that,” she snaps, punching him between the shoulder blades.
He takes her into the hallway, deposits her in the cupboard, closes the door, comes back into the kitchen and retrieves the frosting, before racing up the stairs to his room.
Meanwhile Emily is shouting about some concert she can’t go to and Nathan is trying to explain that she’s too young. At only fifteen she needs to have parental supervision.
“But none of my friends have parental supervision!” She whinges, clearly expecting him to change his mind, which he never does. Give it ten minutes and she’ll be asking me. I’m softer, even though I shouldn’t be.
“Fine, I’ll take you,” Nathan states and I almost face palm.
“For a man who’s so smart, you can be so moronic,” Emily snaps and I hear a door slam. “Emily. Open this door!”
Banging can be heard, followed by more screaming from my teenage daughter.
Ashlyn pads into the kitchen, a bored look on her face. “Why does he put me in the cupboard? It’s not like I can’t get out. I’m six. I know how to open a door.”
Chuckling, I lift her onto the side and hand her a large plastic bowl and a wooden spoon.
“Want to mix?” Her eyes light up and she nods eagerly. My little girl is going to be a chef just like Mummy. I just know it.
“Dillan didn’t tidy his room this morning,” she tells me, clucking her tongue like a mini adult. “And I told him. I said that it’s a pig sty, but he doesn’t care.”
“He’s a teenage boy; he doesn’t care about anything other than food.”
“And girls. Daddy said that he’s on his third girlfriend this month.”
Actually it’s this week, not month. It’s no secret that Dillan is a hit with the ladies. He’s very handsome and, even though he seems to treat them well, they never last long.
“Am I allowed a boyfriend?”
“Ask your father,” I laugh, cracking an egg into the plastic bowl.
She starts mixing like a pro, her little chubby wrist flicking back and forth and her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. “He told Emily that she’s not allowed a boyfriend until she’s married.”
I throw my head back and laugh. I remember that conversation. Nathan’s logic, where his Princess is concerned, is sometimes not very logical at all.
“But he also said she’s not allowed to get married until she’s forty,” Dillan adds, walking into the kitchen with an empty frosting bowl. “Seriously Mum, I’m starved. Where are the crisps?”
“It’s not fair! Dillan gets to go where he wants, when he wants!” Emily cries, storming into the kitchen, her face bright red and her anger evident.
Nathan follows, looking up at the ceiling with his hands clasped beneath his chin.
“Dillan has a curfew for ten at night and he sticks to it.” Nathan says and he has a point; Emily did come home two hours late a few weeks ago. I thought Nathan was going to have a heart attack. I’ve never seen him as frightened as he was the day she was born and she got stuck. I had to have forceps to get her out. It wasn’t a pleasant experience and it lasted almost two days.