Y/n's POV
It had been a busy week. The girls in the family decided to go on a vacation, leaving us guys—Tristan, Scott, Kanye, Travis, and me—to look after the kids.
Tristan complained about Tatum's constant diaper changes, I blamed the excessive consumption of cheese puffs. I chuckled and replied, "Well, what did you expect after feeding him all those cheese puffs? Ice cream?"
Scott chimed in, telling Tristan to relax and take it easy. But Tristan retorted, "Man, your kids can wipe their own asses."
Kanye, being his enigmatic self, added, "It's a facade." I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. I needed to know what he was smoking because it seemed like some potent stuff.
Deciding to check on the kids, I got up and headed towards the backyard. There, I found Travis with the children—some playing in the pool, others running around or playing Nintendo under the shade.
I approached Travis and asked, "Need some help, Barker?"
Travis sighed in relief and replied, "Yes, please. I love kids, but this is a lot to handle."
"Why don't you go inside and grab a drink?" I suggested. "I'll figure something out."
Travis nodded, carefully setting Reign down from his shoulders, and gave me a friendly fist bump before heading inside.
Taking charge, I gathered the kids around me and put on a military commander persona, saying, "Okay! Attention! I need everybody in front of me ASAP, no rocky!"
My imitation of a military commander made them giggle and gather in front of me, some wet from the pool and others dry. I needed to bring some order to the chaos.
"Alright, I want a line from oldest to youngest," I instructed. "To make it easy for you, Mason, you're in the front, and Aire, you're at the back. Unfortunately, Tatum cannot join us for obvious reasons."
The kids giggled as they arranged themselves from oldest to youngest.
"Here's the plan," I continued. "We're all going inside to clean ourselves up. The older ones have to help the younger ones if they need assistance because they might struggle with certain things. After that, we'll gather around the table to decide what we'll have for lunch. How does that sound?"
They all made sounds of agreement, and just like that, we headed into the house and did as planned.
Travis, upon seeing how well-behaved and organized the kids were, commented, "Whatever book you're reading, I need it."
I laughed and shook my head. "There is no book, man. You just gotta make it fun."
Scott, displaying his sour mood, remarked, "Sooner or later, they're gonna get bored, Y/n."
I brushed off his comment, replying confidently, "Don't worry about it, Scott. I've got it under control."
Tristan chimed in, appreciating my efforts. "Man, I appreciate that. Dealing with Tatum's diaper alone is enough for me."
The kids came down and sat around the table, waiting patiently.
"Okay, soldiers," I declared, "we have one mission and one mission only: food! It's gonna be hard, and it's gonna be a long wait, but we will prevail!"
Laughter erupted from the kids, and they grew excited. I didn't expect my little speech to have such an impact, but since it did, I went with the flow.
"We have only a few options," I announced. "The chefs are at war, and we shall be on one side only. Our mothers have left us, and so we will feast with no salads!"
