It was too early for this.
	It was always too early for this. 
	But this was what every morning was like. Not for the first time, Bram thought about skipping ahead to after the kids had gone, but he couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t shirk like that. So, instead he went downstairs into the chaos and cacophony.
	He ducked just in time to avoid a flying piece of flaming toast. “Okay, who’s playing with the toaster?”
	“No one!” a brief chorus of voices sang before another piece went past.
	Toast – the child, not the charred bread product – and Dean were squirting each other with their juice boxes. Cora was shouting in Raylienese (as Bram had come to think of his husband’s native tongue) for help with her homework. 
	Tamika was trying to get in Percy’s face. “Bacon, sign my permission slip!”
	They just pushed past their daughter. “Just forge my name; you know how to by now.”
	“Daddy!”
	“Tamika, don’t step on Toast!”
	“Bake-a, Bake-a!”
	Screaming, crying. Blaine barreled past Bram, but he reached out and caught the boy’s arm. “Ah-ah.”
	“Sorry; had to try.” He handed the wallet back.
	“Good technique though; would work on an easier mark.” He tousled his nephew’s hair, earning a whine as he tried to finger-comb it back into place.
	“Bram!” Percy called above the din of half a dozen kids. “You teaching my kid to pick pockets again!?”
	“Someone has to see to his education,” he replied mildly.
	“Shouldn’t he be on to purse-snatching by now?”
	“Baconnnnnnn,” Blaine whined. 
	Jester snagged hold of Bram’s vest. “Dad, I need something cool for show ‘n’ tell.”
	“Take your younger sister.”
	Ray wandered by with Toast in one arm and Dean in the other. He’d clearly put an end to the Great Juice War. Toast was reaching for Percy insistently. “She wants her bacon,” he observed, and Percy picked their kid up and swooped them around in the air before settling her on their hip. The fact that Toast’s feet hit Tamika in the head went unremarked by everyone, including Tamika. 
	“Daaaaaaaaaaad.” Jester was pouting.
	“Okay, okay, hold on.” He twisted the outer dial on his watch, pushed a certain button sequence, and the kitchen disappeared. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the relative silence and clear air. It took him a few good hours and some dodgy moments, but he finally found what he was looking for. Twist, buttons, and he was back just in time to hear a honking outside.
	“Grade school bus!” Bram called. He was mostly sure he had it right; one time he’d mixed them up and that had been an interesting day – moreso for Jester and Cora than Blaine and Tamika.
	Cora tackle-hugged him, then launched herself at Ray for a hug before booking it for the door. Jester grabbed for what Bram was holding out to him. “Awesome! What is it?”
	“Afrovenator bone. Look it up on the bus on your way in.”
	“Thanks, Dad!” And he was off like a shot.
	“You killed a dinosaur?” Percy was sounding impressed.
	“Of course not!” Bram was aghast. “Do you know how much paradox that would cause?! I hunted around until I found one already dead.”
	“BORING!” Perse declared.
	“I still need my permission slip signed,” Tamika whined over Dean babbling in Raylienese.
	“What’s it for?” Ray asked, trying to mop up the Juice War remnants while balancing Dean on his hip.
	“Field trip.”
	“Where?” Bram wanted to know.
	“A museum.” She was being cagey.
	“An educational experience,” Ray observed. “I will sign…”
	“Ah-ah. Let me see that.” Bram snatched the slip and looked it over. “The University’s art museum?” He narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t they holding that exhibit on erotic art through the ages?”
	“All the more educational,” Ray declared with a big grin. “And it is a school trip.”
	“Bloody strange school,” Bram groused. “She’s 12 years old.”
	“She has to learn at some point.”
	“Not like this, she doesn’t!”
	“Hey, technically she’s my kid,” Percy butted in. “Give me that; Tamika, I need a pen.”
	Bram sighed heavily. “She might as well be mine.”
	“You’re my daddies in my heart,” Tamika told them, voice cloyingly-sweet now that she was getting her way. She was holding the slip steady so Percy could sign easily while still balancing Toast on her hip.
	“Blaine, what is that you’re working on?” Ray asked.
	“My speech. It’s on the history of brothels on Norm-Earth.”
	“What, the entire planet? All of human history?” Bram asked.
	“Couldn’t you narrow your field a little?” Ray asked.
	“Too late; it’s due in first period.”
	Bram groaned. “You’re on your own there, Blaine. I’m not planning to hop through every brothel throughout history. And before you even ask, no, I will not give you time to work on it now like you should have been and then hop us both back to now.”
	“Nah, I got this.” He slammed his book shut just as the bus honked. Blaine grabbed a soggy pancake and was out like a shot. Tamika grabbed her slip away from Percy and bolted after her brother, yelling, “I GET TO SIT NEXT TO TOMMY!”
	“ONLY IF YOU GET THERE FIRST!”
	Dean started screaming at the noise as the door slammed behind them. Ray passed him over to Bram, who gathered up his son in his arms to calm him down.
	Percy bounced Toast, who giggled. “Ray, you heading out? I thought I’d come with today.”
	Bram groaned. “I hate it when you work at the Research Centre. I always end up having to translate your handwriting.”
	“Eh, the extra money would be good, and people’re actually showing up for shifts at Sancho Panza’s. Neither you nor I are getting any jobs, Brammyboo…”
	“For the ten-thousandth time, do not call me that.”
	“…and I don’t have a gig until the Team’s party this weekend. Besides, I could use a good lay or seven.”
	Bram gritted his teeth. “Mental. Image. I Don’t. NEED.”
	But Ray was all smiles. “You’re always welcome at the Center,” he told them.
	“Fine, fine. I’ll stay and watch the kids. At least it’ll be quiet for a bit.” He looked back to Dean, who’d settled down, resting his head on Bram’s shoulder. “You wanna watch a movie? How about we learn how to play Texas Hold’Em?”
	“Bram,” Ray protested. 
	“What happened to ‘educational opportunities’?”
	“They’re only three; that game is a bit above their age group.”
	“Fine, fine. More Ghibli films it is. Which one you want, Dean?”
	He was quiet a moment. “’Pirit Way.”
	Bram grinned. “Toast, you wanna watch Spirited Away?” She nodded, and he sighed in relief. “Okay then, there we go.”
	Percy set their daughter down. “Go on and get your blanket. Bacon has to get ready for work.” But Toast toddled straight to the couch to climb up on it.
	“I’ll get their blankets,” Bram promised, “but ONLY if you at least try to write legibly?”
	Percy flashed a grin and trotted off upstairs to change.
	Ray came over to kiss him quickly and then blinked and muttered what Bram had come to realize was a swear word in his native tongue. He turned to see what his husband was seeing and groaned. There sat four lunchboxes, half-packed.
	“Let’s get these finished; I’ll drop them off on our way in,” Ray said.
	“Don’t let Percy drive.”
	“I never let Percy drive. Five accidents were enough.”
	“OY, I HEARD THAT!” they called from the stairs. “I’M A GOOD DRIVER!”
	“IN CAR CHASES!” Bram shot back.
	“BETTER’N YOU!”
	Ray actually covered Bram’s mouth with his hand. “Do not encourage them to keep yelling, and help me with the lunches, please?”