Second oneshot book

Heart to the side~Stendy (South Park.)

I'm going to shit (when am I not) and decided to make stuff I actually cry about because I never have before! So get ready for a depressing bunch of one-shots that only I will cry at.
Warnings: Cursing and sorry if this is a different kind of depressing, I listened to the song up top.
Ages: 41 and 40? Is that old—yeah.
Note: I cried because....... I will never have a family that feels like shit because I leave. My stepma can't wait for it and my dad's too high on meds constantly to give a simple shit about anything.
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Stan's POV.

Wendy and I both know our first child was an accident. She knows that fact. We all know that fact.
But still... she is sort of a 'daddy's girl'. She'll come over sometime and hug both of us before she sits down next to me, that's greeting the only child that still lives at home. My other one, my middle child visits as well but less frequently, he's around his boyfriend a lot and doesn't quite have his life in check enough to....... y'know, Get here from campus.

"Wilma's here."

I smile and get up, taking my daughter into a hug. She hugs me back, smiling brightly.

"Hi dad."

I let go of her.

"I still can't get it through my head that you're an adult."

"Dad, I'm 22 and a half."

"I know but..... oh goddamnit, now I know why my grandma said I had grown each time we met. I have seen you since you were a few hours old."

She laughs and puts his bag on the floor.

"I didn't forget the special day."

I roll my eyes as she gives me a card. I assume she made it, arts were a weirdly good point of her. Admittedly, it's more the determination to make than that.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

She gives me a second card.

"That's from Shawn, he's heartbroken he couldn't attend."

I nod and tell her to thank Shawn.

"Do you wanna eat?" I ask.

"Which one of you cooked?"

I raise my hand.

"Okay then I'm fine with it. Mom isn't a very good cook."

"Hey!"

"Honey, you know your daughter is just telling the truth."

"Okay, fine. But I'm the one that keeps the house running. Ain't nobody else gonna clean the place."

"Okay, that's true. Dad's terrible when it comes to cleaning."

"Hey, I object. I cleaned all my children when they were born and each bathing was on me alone," I say.

Wilma nods.

"Wait.... where's the little one at?" Wilma asks, looking around.

"Out. Plus.... he's 'fifteen, don't call me little anymore'."