The coffee table is buried under an avalanche of tiaras, plastic teacups, and a mountain of stuffed animals, someof which have been dramatically wrapped in toilet paper like they’re starring in a low-budget mummy movie. A pink feather boa dangles from the TV, a wand is precariously wedged into the potted plant, and there’s a disturbing amount of glitter coating the floor.
And in the middle of it all, like this is the most normal thing in the world, are my five-year-old daughter and my fully grown forty-five-year-old brother.
Both dressed as princesses.
Lucy spots me first, beaming. “Daddy!” She scrambles to her feet, her pink satin skirt tangling around her hips as she runs toward me. “Uncle Geoff said we could have pizza for dinner!”
I slowly turn my head towards him. “Did he now?”
Geoff—who is six foot two, built like a retired rugby player, and currently squeezed into one of Lucy’s Frozen dresses—gives me a lazy wave from his throne of stuffed animals.
And when I say squeezed, I mean it looks like Bruce Banner caught mid-Hulk transformation. The seams of the baby blue fabric are holding on for dear life, and the tiny, capped sleeves have given up entirely, having rolled up to his shoulders in surrender.
He adjusts the tiara perched precariously on his head and gestures at himself. “Before you say anything, I was left unsupervised with a five-year-old and a bag of dress-up clothes. This was inevitable.”
I exhale. “Geoff, you’re supposed to be the responsible adult.”
Geoff gestures down at himself, then at the general disaster around him. “And I was responsible. I committed to the bit.”
Lucy tugs at my hand, eyes wide with hope. “Daddy, pleeease can we have pizza? Uncle Geoff promised.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. I should say no. I should tell Geoff off for spoiling her, for letting the house turn into some kind of glitter coated royal court while I was gone. But honestly? I don’t have the energy.
And the idea of cooking something? Not happening.
I glance between my daughter, practically vibrating with excitement, and my idiot brother, who looks dangerously close to ripping that dress apart at the seams if he so much as breathes too hard.
“Fine,” I say, already regretting it. “But I get to pick the toppings.”
Lucy squeals in triumph and immediately starts listing her own demands. “Pepperoni! And cheese! And pineapple!”
Geoff grimaces. “We were doing so well until the pineapple.”
I shoot him a look. “You have no right to judge anyone when you look like that.”
Geoff looks down at himself, then shrugs. “Fashion is pain.”
I shake my head, stepping over a pile of fairy wings to grab my phone. “Fine. But if I see glitter in my food, both of you are banned from dinner decisions indefinitely.”
Lucy and Geoff exchange a look. Then, at the exact same time, they cross their hearts.
I don’t trust them for a second.
By the time dinner is over, my stomach is full, my kitchen is a mess, and Lucy is in her room, supposedly tidying up. In reality, she’s probably getting distracted byher toys and making an even bigger mess, but as long as I don’t have to see it, I’m calling it a win.
Geoff, now free of his princess attire, stretches with an exaggerated groan, rubbing his shoulder. “Right. That’s enough quality uncle time for one evening. I’m off.”
I lift a hand. “Not so fast.”
He turns, eyes narrowing. “What now?”
I shove a pile of stuffed animals into his arms. “You helped make the mess. You help clean the mess.”
He scowls at me like I’ve personally betrayed him. “I did my part. I provided entertainment and pizza.”
“You also turned my living room into a crime scene.” I gesture at the piles of toys, glitter, and dress-up clothes still scattered across the floor. “So, unless you want to explain to Lucy why the princess kingdom has been shut down for good, you’re staying.”
Geoff mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue, bending down to scoop up a pile of sparkly fabric. We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes, gathering tiaras and tossing stuffed animals into the basket by the sofa.
