Takin Over the Asylum once more!

Chapter 2

"Cami, have ya been up all night?" a concerned Ivy enquired, running her fingers through her puffy and bloodshot eyed husband's hair as he sat at the breakfast table and perused his laptop screen with a fixed and weary gaze. "Aye. Just searchin for jobs. Nothin's caught my eye yet. With a third tyke on the way, I might as well need a head start, yeah? We're gonna need a bigger place too. We're gonna need the money. An' without a job, well...I can't see that happenin, eh?" he replied, getting overworked at the thought of his two month pregnant wife and twins (triple mouths to feed!), while Ivy tried her best to keep him calm.
"A bigger place? I love where we are now. An' we're gonna be fine, kay?  For me, home is where ya an' the kids are, love. Besides, if we did move into a gigantic mansion, I'd be stuck dustin off cobwebs an' vacuumin the whole bloody place, while ya sat on yer arse an' helped yerself to tea an' biscuits!" she attempted to use humor as a means of comforting him before the stressed man drove himself crazy with worry!  "We'd have butlers to do that. Or we could give my ol pal Rosalie a call. She runs an online cleanin service now, ya know?" he added, calming down a bit and chuckling slightly at her joke.  "I just want the kids to have the happy childhood I never had. To have all the riches in the world an' no complaints. I can do much better than my father. Provide em with everythin I never had, just cuz dad was a lowly sweeper an' could hardly afford to pay for my treatment." he continued, bringing himself down with all those sad memories from his past.
"There's money in rappin an' beat-boxin. I reckon I could drop a beat. Isn't that what the young 'uns call it?" he finally spoke up after a long pause. "Firstly, no-one calls em young 'uns anymore, ol timer. I believe they prefer bein called millennials , an' secondly, ya can't rap or beat-box to save yer life!" she corrected, raising an eyebrow on hearing him, before sitting down and scooping a spoonful of soggy cereal into her mouth. "Bet ya 5 pounds I can." Campbell, determined as always, argued. "Yer on!" she exclaimed with an amusing smile, just to humor him. After a few sips of his OJ and clearing his throat, he began, confident of his rapping and beat-boxing skills like he'd trained under Snoop Dogg himself!  And it sorta went like this:
Gosh! Ivy's got moves like a cat,
Look at that gorgeous, curvaceous silhouette,
My girl, she's phat!
Phat- As in pretty, hot an' terrific
An' not the other kind o'....
"Stop! I think I'm gonna keep my five pounds. That's terrible!" she interrupted the Scottish Snoop Dogg before he could continue further. "Wasn't half-bad." he muttered, disagreeing with her and hurt that she hadn't liked his rap. "Just keep lookin for a job, eh? An' I'm keepin yer five pounds too, now that I know you'll just throw it away bettin on yerself every chance ya get!"  she put an end to his rap performance, cautiously snatching away the five pounds and stashing the cash away into her purse for safekeeping as she stood up to leave.
"Take yer medication, by the way, mister." she whispered, trying not to disturb him as she lightly pecked the top of his head and pushed a few unruly strands off his eyes with her finger.  "But, I don't wanna. I took it yesterday, didn't I?" he whined, acting like a stubborn child when it came to his medication! "Campbell Bain, ya take yer medication or I'm callin yer dad up!" she threatened, shooting a verbal warning shot at him. "Fine! That ol geezer is really o'erstayin his visit in this world, eh? How long till he ups an'....kids!" Campbell grumbled, before changing his tone to a happy one as the kids came rushing into the kitchen. They had a holiday and so, unlucky Campbell was in charge of them till Ivy returned from her job at the hospital. "Are we talking about grandad? Is he comin o'er to stay again?" the nosy lil monsters enquired excitedly on overhearing their beloved grandad being spoken of, before engulfing their father in a bone-crushing hug. Their mum took this as a cue to leave. "Thankfully, no, he isn't. Oi! Stay away from the fridge an' the coffee, ya lot!" Campbell replied, but the imps had already begun their mischief before he could finish his sentence and were raiding the fridge for an unhealthy breakfast of juice boxes and icecream as soon as their watchful mother had left!