He was due to arrive in a couple of hours.
Mum had worn her wig and that floral scent she reserved for those times when dad was coming from one of his regular trips.
“Guys, I know I promised we would go to grandma’s place this weekend, but I’m sorry that won’t be possible anymore…”
Before he finished, Ire had yanked off the arm that held him on dad’s lap and flung himself on the blue Persian rug in the middle of the living room.
My younger brother was only seven years old, but already, everyone knew about his legendary emotional reactions. He was quick to get hurt and throw a tantrum, but that was just because he had a soft heart.