The Cooper household had never been quiet, but now, with two newborns, two five-year-olds, and a full house, it was absolute chaos.
John Cooper thrived on order. He liked plans, schedules, and the ability to predict outcomes.
But babies?
Babies were wildcards.
And Sheldon and Missy had just thrown his world into disarray.
"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"
Georgie's wail echoed down the hall.
It was night three of no sleep, and John was already awake, calmly flipping a page in his notebook.
"Yelling won't stop them," he noted.
Georgie flopped face-first onto his bed. "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE."
John sighed. "Then sleep in the barn."
"I would, but Dad won't let me."
Before John could respond, another loud cry rang through the house.
This time, it wasn't the babies.
"MARY! DO SOMETHING!"
Their mother's exhausted voice shot back.
"I'VE BEEN DOING SOMETHING FOR THREE DAYS, GEORGE!"
"WELL, DO MORE!"
"DO YOU WANT TO BREASTFEED THEM? BE MY GUEST!"
A long pause.
"…I'LL GO MAKE COFFEE."
John smirked. Smart move, Dad.
By sunrise, John and Georgie staggered into the kitchen like zombies.
Meemaw, already sipping coffee, raised an eyebrow. "Well, look at you two. You get hit by a tornado?"
Georgie collapsed into a chair. "Worse. Two babies."
Charlie, sitting across from Meemaw, hid a smirk behind his coffee.
John adjusted his glasses. "Logically, they'll start sleeping longer in a few weeks. The real challenge is adapting to the temporary chaos."
Georgie groaned. "I hate chaos."
Meemaw smirked. "And yet, you are chaos."
Just then, Mary shuffled in, dark circles under her eyes, bottle in one hand, rubbing her temple with the other.
George Sr. followed, carrying Missy, who was wide awake, looking around like she owned the place.
Charlie chuckled. "She's got that Tucker confidence already."
Mary exhaled. "I just want one night of sleep."
John, ever the problem solver, adjusted his glasses. "Perhaps a sleep schedule—"
Meemaw cut him off with a laugh. "Oh, sweetie, babies don't do schedules."
John frowned. "Everything can be scheduled."
Meemaw smirked. "Good luck tellin' them that."
Despite the chaos, John's hydroponics business was booming.
Langston Whitmore had introduced him to new investors, and John had secured more land to expand production.
After breakfast, George Sr. took him to see the new greenhouse site.
The land was flat, open, and bathed in sunlight—perfect for expansion.
George Sr. stepped out of the truck, hands on his hips. "Alright, kid. Walk me through it."
John flipped open his notebook.
"With this land, we can double our yield. A vertical hydroponic system maximizes efficiency, and our initial investment should yield a return within three months."
George Sr. whistled. "Three months? Hell, when I invest in somethin', it usually just costs me money."
John smirked. "That's because you don't conduct risk assessments."
George Sr. narrowed his eyes. "Hey, I assess risks all the time."
John raised an eyebrow. "Like when you bet on football games?"
"…Okay, bad example."
John continued. "By next year, we'll be ready to distribute to local grocery stores."
George Sr. let out a breath. "You really thought this through, huh?"
John nodded. "Of course."
George Sr. rubbed the back of his neck. "Y'know, most five-year-olds just wanna play with trucks."
John shrugged. "I prefer revenue streams."
Meanwhile, in Georgie's Get-Rich-Quick Schemes…
Georgie, not one to be outdone, decided he needed a business too.
His brilliant idea?
"Georgie's Super Secret Backyard Casino."
It lasted one afternoon.
John discovered it when he found three neighborhood kids sitting in the yard, placing bets with bubblegum and baseball cards.
Georgie, wearing sunglasses, was dealing cards like some Vegas high roller.
John folded his arms. "This is illegal."
Georgie grinned. "Not if nobody tells Mom."
John sighed. "I am telling Mom."
Georgie groaned. "Come on, John. I'm just trying to make some extra cash."
John shook his head. "Casinos profit because they control the odds. You don't have the statistical knowledge to do that."
Georgie scowled. "I know some statistics."
John raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What's the probability of getting a blackjack?"
"…Uhh."
"Exactly."
At that moment, the kitchen window flew open.
Mary's voice rang out.
"GEORGE COOPER JR., WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"
Georgie froze.
The neighbor kids scattered.
John smirked. "Told you."
That night, after a long day, the house finally settled down.
The twins were asleep (for now).
John sat on the porch, notebook open in his lap.
Charlie rocked slowly beside him in a chair, looking up at the stars.
After a moment, Charlie spoke. "Big change, huh?"
John nodded. "Yes."
Charlie glanced at him. "You're takin' it well."
John considered that. "I prefer structure. The twins disrupted it. But… I'm adapting."
Charlie smirked. "That's the key to life, kid. Adapt, or get left behind."
John looked up at him. "You think I'll be a good big brother?"
Charlie's smile softened. "John, you're already a great one."
John turned back to his notebook, flipping to a blank page.
There was a lot to do.
A business to run.
A family to help.
And an entire future ahead.
John smirked.
Time to get to work.