Page 603 of The Winslow Brothers

And when I realize Hawk looks like he’s about to catapult himself off the damn table, I rush over and snag him off before the crazy little bastard can follow through.

“I was gonna do a jump, Dad!” Hawk exclaims. “What the hecks? You ruined it!”

Out of breath and with a sticky five-year-old clutched in my arms, I look at my wife with wide eyes. “What’s with this kid?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” she says through a laugh. “That is one hundred percent Jude Winslow genes right there.”

I laugh. I can’t help it.

But I also don’t disagree. Because how could I? Hawk might as well be my mini-me.

“Don’t look so proud about it,” Sophie adds. “All thanks to your wild genes, we’re going to have gray hairs before Hawk graduates high school.”

“I want to jump, Daddy!” Hawk exclaims, still in my arms.

“Jump, Hawk!” Meadow cheers him on from the table. She has icing and a big, toothy grin on her face. “For glories!”

“Do not encourage him, Meadow,” I say through a laugh as I set Hawk back to his feet. “Dude, you’re not jumping off the kitchen table. That’s a hard no.”

“Hows I gonna be a superhero?” he questions as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I gotta practice.”

“Practice somewhere soft,” Sophie comments. “Like your bed. Or the couch.”

“Ugh,” Hawk groans. “Fine.”

It’s not long before he and Meadow are back in the living room safely wreaking havoc on our couch, and I set out on my mission to turn my wife on mind, body, and soul. I head straight for her, where she’s starting to clean up the kitchen, remove her hands from the dishes, and turn her entire body toward our bedroom.

“You go take a bath. I’ll handle this.”

“Oh boy, I sure love it when you’re bossy like this,” she says, looking up at me with a flirtatious smile.

“Just you wait, babe,” I tell her and press a kiss to her lips. “Tonight, I’m going to beverybossy.”

She giggles, and I pinch her ass as she heads out of the kitchen.

Tonight, my beautiful wife is going to earna lotof badges.

Remy

By the time I pull up to my mom’s brownstone, chaos is already in full swing.

Through the closed front door, I can hear at least three different kids yelling, laughter from my mom, and the unmistakable sound of a dog barking.

My mom and Howard don’t even have a dog.

Carmen is practically vibrating with excitement in her car seat. “Hurry, Dada! I wanna pway!”

And Izzy isn’t far beyond her with impatience. “Park the car, Daddy! Let’s go!”

When I get out and open the back door, Izzy is off like a rocket, little legs pumping as she barrels toward the house. Carmen lets me unbuckle her, but once her feet hit the ground, she runs after her sister as fast as she can. By the time I step inside the house, absolute mayhem is unfolding before my very eyes.

Roman and Ryder are wrestling in the living room, rolling around like two tiny Tasmanian devils.

My eighteen-year-old niece Lexi stands over them with her arms crossed, playing referee. The only thing missing is a whistle around her neck. “Ryder wins that round.”

Roman shouts, “He cheated!”

“No, Roman,” Lexi refutes. “You lost points for the illegal neck hold.”

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