Way Too Big✔️

12. Way too big; [ Survival mode.]

12.//Way too big;[ survival mode.]

One word; Chaotic. That's the perfect word to describe our extremely disorganized house. I've been -still am- stressed beyond the limit. Ever since my dad's brother and his family got back from the United States. I've experienced nothing but stress.

Uncle Folarin is dad's younger brother. They both schooled in the United States. After graduation, while dad decided to come back to Nigeria (irrational decision by the way), Uncle Folarin decided to stay behind. Where he married his college sweetheart, Aunty Diekololaoluwalayemi.

Everyone just calls her aunty yemi because I can't imagine the brain cells that'll die and the strength I'll use to pronounce that name.
They had three boys. The eldest one,  Fola was Eric's agemate.
Then there was Fife, he's about seven years old.
The last and most annoying of them all was Femi. He's just three years old.

But this three-year-old, oh this three-year-old. They were here for grandpa's remembrance which will be taking place on Friday. In Abeokuta, Ogun state.
I was in Maximus' room laying on the floor beside him. He's helping me with my school assignment.
Maximus rubbed his eyes, "There's no example sef.
Your note is incomplete. What do you do when others are writing?"
I stifled a yawn, "write too." I felt sleepy, that's what stress does to you.

He was going to say something but a high-pitched voice that could only belong to one tiny human interrupted him. "Nayomiiiiii."
I deflated, face flat on the floor. It's only a matter of time before I'll be declared dead.
And the only thing that should be written on my gravestone is ' Naomi. 2003 - 2021. A loving daughter and friend.  Died of inhumane stress.'

I groaned in frustration.
I groaned again, just for good measure.
"Those kids are something else." Maximus laughed.
I got up, "I swear to God if it's not important."

"Nayomiiiiii." Another ear-piercing scream.
I'm downstairs in no time, staring down at him, "why are you shouting? Ehn?"

"Pardon?"

I had barely sat down on one of the sofas when Femi screamed, "noooooooo!!!", I jerked away from the chair, stumbling backward till I fell on the floor. Earning myself a crack sound, I'm definitely sure something is broken. I groaned and rubbed my rear end.
He ran to the sofa and picked something up, "you almost sat on my legooooo." He looked like he was about to cry.

I almost passed out.
I almost sat on what?
Lego?
I rubbed my temples and pinched the bridge of my nose. Everything about this kid infuriated me.
When he was still a newborn baby, his crying melted my heart. But now, it only heightened my irritation.
"Which mumu Lego?" I got up and hovered over him.
He looked at me with inquisitive eyes, "what's a mumu?"

"You! You! You're a mumu." I got up and wiped crumbs of biscuits off my clothes.

"Now why did you call me?" I asked.
"I'm hungryyyy." He whined, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Can't this kid talk without dragging his last words?

I looked at him and looked around the parlor, crumbs of bread and biscuits everywhere. Even the tin of milk was opened and ...empty.

"Who ate all this one? You'll wait till it's time for dinner." I deadpanned and started walking upstairs.

"But back in the states..." I almost jumped out of my skin when Femi held onto my legs.

I quickly held onto the railing for support, "how did you even get here so fast? Stop following me for God's sake." On second thought, "In fact follow me, come and stay with your brothers."

He grabbed my shirt and started tugging, "But I want to stay with youuuuuu."
Yanking my shirt away from his surprisingly strong grip, I rebuked him "God forbid!"