The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S1 E1.1: Pilot

Cyrus's POV

"TJ, where do we keep the placemats?" I ask.

"Check the cabinet in the dining room," TJ responds.

I wind around the pillar separating the kitchen from the dining room and kneel down at the back by the tall, black cabinet that me and my husband received when we first moved in here at twenty-one. It was a gift from Amber that she got at an antique shop. A swirly pattern is carved into the door faces, showcasing its beauty, and the wood grain shines through. However, the base of the structure is covered in dents, many of them having been created in the last week from the RC car that my ten year-old son's been driving around the house since the day he got it. I would regret buying him that, but he actually saved up his allowance to pay for it, so the trashing of all the furniture is just an unfortunate side effect of his financial responsibility.

I find the stack of wicker placemats and begin laying them out on the dining room table. My friends are coming over for dinner in a couple hours, and they're bringing their families. This will be the first time I'm seeing Buffy since she and her family got back from their vacation to Disneyland, so I want everything to be perfect. Once I have the dining table set, I go back into the kitchen to check the list I left on the island to see what is still needed to be done.

"Okay, tables are set," I mutter to myself. "Living room is cleaned. Dinner is cooking, which smells great by the way!" I spin around to look at my husband who's busy stirring a pot on the stove. "What are you making?"

TJ smiles as I wander over to take a look at the liquid simmering that's making the whole place smell of savoury vegetables and spices.

"This is the vegan gravy," he answers. "The shepherds pie is in the oven."

"Yum," I reply. "Okay, so we have almost everything done. What am I missing?"

The answer comes as a slam to my foot, and I look down to see a familiar red toy truck attempting to climb my ankle. My kids. The vehicle backs up before zooming forward again, using my foot as a ramp to launch itself into the air. I turn to where my son is standing at the bottom of the stairwell, holding the remote.

"Wyatt," I call. "I told you no stunt jumps."

"But Papa told me go big or go home."

I shoot my eyes to TJ, who just grins innocently back at me.

"You're a bad influence," I say, a smile peaking through.

I give up my stern look quickly as my eyes flick down to TJ's mouth, and TJ notices the hint, stepping in to give me a soft kiss on the lips.

"Ew!" Wyatt shouts as we part. "Cooties!"

"Wyatt, that's not how cooties work," I respond. "You catch those from the opposite gender."

"Yeah," TJ supports. "Gays are immune."

"Like how Superman is immune to green kryptonite?" Wyatt chirps, lighting up.

"Yes, exactly like that," I confirm, although I have no idea whether that's actually true or not.

"Cool!"

Wyatt's car steers back toward the stairs where he picks it up and carries it. On his way up, he passes by his sister, fourteen year-old Jayda who currently has her face scrunched in anger as she stomps into the kitchen and swings open the fridge. TJ and I watch as she fights with the orange juice jug, aggressively yanking it from its spot before shoving the door closed and unscrewing the cap. 

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine," the girl snaps.

"Yes, I believe those were my exact words right before I drove into a library when I was seventeen," TJ reminisces.