#plot who needs plot

Scott shoved the porch door open with his shoulder, and kicked his shoes off at the same time as he dumped his school back alongside a miscellaneous pile of kit bags, boots and book bags. It probably meant his brothers were already back, but there was usually a certain amount of guess work involved in calculating occupancy levels from footwear ratios. Scott's brain was still full of numbers from his last class of the day, the dreaded double math, and he felt full of fluff.

Walking down the hallway, he could hear his parents voices coming from the kitchen and the jingly rattly sound that suggested that Alan was beating the stuffing out of his playpen toys again.

His Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop open beside her, but currently being ignored, as she was beaming at her phone and intermittently shoving the device into her husbands face with a wicked grin.

She noticed Scott come into the kitchen, and called him over.

“Hey Scotty, look at this!”

Scott stopped to scoop a wriggly Alan up into his arms on his way, parking him solidly on his hip as pudgy arms were waved in toy flailing delight.

“What is it?” Scott asked, trying to see what was being shown on the phone screen. His Mom angled the screen so he could see. It was a picture of a very very newborn baby curled up and snoozing. The “awwwwhhh” came out of his mouth without conscious thought.

"its my friend Samantha's new baby boy," Lucy said. “Now watch this.” instructed his Mom.

She turned the phone to where Jeff was sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen table, shoulders slightly slumped and resigned, a small indulgent smile aimed at his wife.

Scott was curious, but confused as to what his mother was up to, he hoisted Alan a little higher onto his hip, which allowed the little demon to make a solid grab at Scott's hair with one suspiciously sticky pudgy paw. Scott was just gently untangling the fingers when he heard it.

“Awwwh, but look at him, just a ‘ittle ball of snoozy, and squish and sooo tiny, were ours ever that tiny, that tiny baby tiny, don’t say you don’t want to just squish him up, such a little sweet thing! Like a little pastry. Looooook at the little fingers!" It was a full stream of consciousness pouring out of Jeff Tracy.

Scott's mouth hung open in shock. Alan took the opportunity to shove a partially chewed stacking brick into the open goal, with a delighted squeal.

The flood of baby talk subsided as the image was moved away, and his father slumped that little bit more in his seat. Then, with malicious glee and an evil laugh, the phone swung towards him once more. Jeff held his hands up in defeat.

“Oh but he’s just toooooo cute! It’s not just me! Look at him!”

His attacker finally relented and put the phone down.

“I think I’ve broken your father Scott, so sorry.” She did not seem at all sorry, going by the smile on his face.

“What was that?!” Scott asked, spitting the plastic block out of his mouth and gently repositioning his baby brother's hand from its killer grip on his collar.

“I think someone is a little broody,” his Mom laughed.

“Has he always been like this?” Scott asked frowning.

“You know you don’t want me to answer that, Scott, you have 4 siblings after all.” she cackled again, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nope, too much information!” Scott blushed right to the tip of his easily embarrassed teenage ears. Parents could be so embarrassing.

Deciding action was the best option, Scott strode around the table and plonked his lump of a baby brother bum first onto the kitchen table in front of their father. Alan squealed again, and latched his iron strong grip into the weave of Jeffs shirt.

It was like someone had connected Jeff to pure solar power, his face lit up and his hands were out to steady the easily unbalanced roly poly youngers in front of him. “Hello you!” He beamed at the excited baby. “Who’s my little champ! Hey? Did you have a good nap? Ready to take on the world huh? Ready to see it all? Yeah?”

Jeff chattered away as he stood from the table, hefting Alan up into his arms, and heading off to explore the garden narrating everything they encountered on their way. “What can we see, hey? Some birds in the tree, what do you think they are saying, hey? Talking about what they want to have as a snack maybe? Shall we go see the strawberry bushes? Yeah? Sound good.”

Lucy got up too, and came around the table to stand next to her bean pole of a son to watch as Jeff trotted down the garden path with the youngest.

“Pfft!” Scott snorted “what a sap!” Scott said.

“Yep-p!” Lucy said, popping the P with delight right next to Scotts ear, and she threw her arm over his shoulder. “He’s our sap, and we wouldn’t have him any other way, right?!”

Scott rolled his eyes, but did let his mother smack a noisy kiss on his cheek (he was slightly smug that she had to push herself up on her toes to be able to reach that now),

“Yeah,” he begrudgingly agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, I’m your mother.” She stepped back and picked up a kitchen cloth and flapped it at Scott. “Now go round up our brothers, dinner is nearly ready! Scoot scooter!”