AOIFE
SURPRISINGLY, spending time with the younger Lynch boys did wonders to clear the anxiety-weaved cobwebs in my head.
The oldest of the three was the living, breathing clone of my boyfriend back in the day.
The middle one could give me a run for my money in the talking stakes. As for the baby of the family?
God, Sean was just so damn cute, it was ridiculous.
Too busy fielding the never-ending stream of questions that came from Ollie’s wildly imaginative brain, while supplying endless cuddles to the adorable fingers-and-thumb-sucking three-year-old, I didn’t have time to brood or ponder on my problems.
The sheer volume of prepubescent, alpha-male attitude coming off Tadhg in waves was impressive, and, if it wasn’t for the fact that I had a first-class honor’s degree in handling such a snarky little shithead, I might have felt overwhelmed.
However, little alpha proved that he was, indeed, his brother’s double by eventually – and of course reluctantly – succumbing to my irresistible wit and charm. The fact that I could puck a sliotar hadn’t hurt the cause, either.
By the time we made it back to their house a little before one o clock, I was somewhat confident that, in the event of all-out war breaking out, I had earned myself three little allies.
The only thing to put a dampener on the day was that Joey and Shannon hadn’t returned.
I didn’t have any phone credit to contact Joey, and even though Tadhg and Ollie might have been fine on their own for a bit, I could never, in good conscience, leave them to their own devices, with a three-year-old to fend for.
I ended up waiting until half past one before knocking on their next-door neighbor’s door to use her landline to call in sick to work for a shift that I should be starting at 2pm because Joey’s landline could only accept incoming calls. I’d also used Fran’s phone to try Joey’s mobile, but it went straight to voicemail.
At first, it hadn’t worried me too much, but after rummaging around in his room for music to entertain the boys – because their shithead father took their television with him – and realizing that the sweatpants containing that bag of pills was gone, I quickly changed my tune.
Clearly, Joe had thrown them on this morning before leaving the house, which meant that wherever he was now, he was walking around with his own personal ticking time bomb in his pocket.
“I’m a good dancer, huh?” Ollie asked, dragging me from my thoughts, as we bopped around the kitchen to The Bloodhound Gang’s The Ballad of Chasey Lain – curtesy of his older brother’s ridiculously explicit music collection.
Yeah, I was a real stellar babysitter.
“So good, Ols,” I laughed, watching as the little guy threw shapes like no one was watching.
Thankfully, he and Sean seemed blissfully unaware of the meaning of the song, too busy spinning and twirling around the kitchen to take any notice.
Meanwhile, little alpha was cracking up from his perch on top of the kitchen table.
Slugging a can of his brother’s coke, Tadhg almost choked to death on several intervals throughout the course of the song.
“Hold on, I gots a song. I gots one!” Ollie declared when the song ended, running into the sitting room and returning a moment later with a disc. “This is Mammy’s music,” he explained proudly, switching up discs on the small kitchen stereo. “I love it.”
A moment later, Loretta Lynn’s The Pill drifted from the speaker.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tadhg groaned, slapping the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Really, Ols?”
“Uh-huh.” Singing the song word for word, Ollie bounced around the kitchen with Sean’s small hands in his. “Mammy sings this song to us.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Tadhg replied, giving me a knowing shake of his head. “Most kids, when they’re small, get nursery rhymes.” He shook his head and pointed to the stereo. “We got this.”
“Well, shit.”
“Joe gave her the album for Mother’s Day a few years ago.” He smirked before saying, “I think he might have been trying to tell her something with that song.”
I laughed out loud, even though it was completely inappropriate, not to mention slightly hypocritical.
Grinning wolfishly, Tadhg hopped down from the table and sauntered over to the stereo to switch up discs.
After spending a few minutes flicking through tracks, he settled on Bowling For Soup’s Girl All the Bad Guys Want.
He gave me a cheeky wink and said, “This one’s for you, blondie.”
Well, shit.
I choked out a laugh.
Little alpha had moves.
