Every day, once I was done with work and whatever bullshit was put on my plate during my gigs as one of the Head Administrators of Uhrwerk and Mister Gray of House of Antipodes, I went to go see my kids. Seeing their smiling faces somehow made all the bullshit seem less like bullshit and more like important work.

I think they might be the real reason I didn't tell the HOA to take the mantle of Mister Gray and shove it where the moon doesn't shine. The House of Antipodes, despite all their many, many, so, so, many faults, worked to make the cosmos a safer, better, place. The Misters did the lion’s share of the work when it came to that. I think I liked the idea of leaving the cosmos a safer, happier, place for my kids to run amok in.

“Hiya, kiddos. How’s it popping?” I said. As I met my kids on one of the play planets I’d setup for them.

“Father,” said my oldest kids.

“Dad,” said the middle kids.

“Daddy,” said the youngest kids, and my one little princess who was older but absolutely had my number, and clearly intended to keep me twisted around her little finger till the day I died.

I greeted the kids and the kids greeted me back like I was the host of my own little talk show. To all extents, for me having kids was like siring my own little entourage. They were just always so happy to see me when I got home. Their response to my presence was sometimes enthusiastic enough that I’d occasionally look behind me to check that there wasn’t some cooler, more competent, guy walking up behind me.

I cherished these days because I knew that it was just a matter of time that the kids smartened up to how I not-so-secretly kind of sucked. Those days were coming sooner than I’d like. The inherited memories each child had inherited from their mothers and me, made them into this strange mixture of child, teenager, and little adult. Their emotional development was still tied to their physical development, but they knew far more than most kids their age would know.

Long story short, I had five, maybe six years tops before I was back to being the least mature person in my household. So I was living it up while I could.

“Okay, kiddos, since we’ve got a few hours till dinner, we can do a thing together, or you guys can all do your own things,” said I. Clapping my hands.

My gaggle of eldritch munchkins took on this very aware, measuring look. Then they turned around and seemed to confer with one other. Using some kind of group telepathy, that we adults in the household hadn’t been let in on.

Then the kids turned around and said in unison,

“Own thing…”

“Alright, then...Have it your way,” I said. Happy to go along with whatever they wanted.

It used to be the case that they always wanted to play together but these days, more often than not, the kids wanted to do their own things.

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Thus with the children having decided how they wanted to spend the rest of the evening before dinnertime, I became five different Montys. Literally splitting into five copies of myself, so that each child got to spend time with me, during their chosen activity.

Doing their own thing, didn’t mean I was going to leave them alone. I wasn't an idiot. Unattended minors with vast cosmic powers was a recipe for trouble if there ever was one. Allowing the kids to do their own things was my way of allowing them to express their individualism and pursue their own interests while I spent time with them.

Starting youngest to oldest, Henrietta’s twins Harold and Blair were quite individualized. Harold liked art, so me and his copy of me would go to another part of the planet where we had all these art supplies. Sometimes we’d just hang out while he drew and sketched and painted. Sometimes he’d get into sculpture and he’d play with clay, or I’d help him with chiseling stone, or carving wood, after he did rough work in clay or sketched out an eye.

Recently, me and Harold had started this nifty project where he’d mold clay statutes and I’d make supersized giant versions of them. Our latest masterpiece was a doggy the size of a mountain. I think it was supposed to be Mint. The kids all loved her, but Harold in particular seemed to look up to her.

Blair took after her mother. She wanted to be a genius just like her mom. So we’d usually spend our evenings together either watching educational documentaries, or doing experiments. I’d usually do the actual experimenting because she was a little too young to be playing with chemicals and fire, but when we came across safer little things we could do, I’d always try to let her do her own thing.

She even built a robot once. It was janky as fuck, as should be expected by anything made by a four-year-old, but damn if that kid isn’t going places.

Tau, Primrose’s kid, was maybe my least productive child and I mean that in the absolute best of ways. It’s as if every ounce of her workaholic nature was rejected by him and ejected from his body during the short time where he was still shitting himself.

And that’s [probably a good thing, because honestly, I didn’t know it when I married her, but I’m pretty sure that if it weren't for me and the rest of my wives keeping her grounded, she’d probably literally work herself in the grave.

Hell, the reason she wasn’t able to catch her peers in the Heroes Guild fucking up was because she’d been working hard to pick up their growing slack, paradoxically resulting in Primrose working too hard to notice everything falling apart within the actual guild. She was getting better at smelling the roses, but that habit of trying to take on the entire weight of the world was something she still needed to break.

Today we spent the time before dinner lying on a beach in the middle of a shallow child-safe ocean. Watching big fluffy clouds go by. We pretended that the shapeless masses of vapor were different animals or objects. Then we’d just sort of shoot the shit, talking about stuff that happened during our days. Sometimes the conversations would turn all weirdly philosophical.

“Hey, that cloud looks like a duck,” said I.

Then Tau said,

“Daddy, do you think ducks are aware they’re ducks? Or do they just go through life vaguely aware of their own being and unique natures, but not comprehending the greater meaning behind their lives...Or is there no greater meaning and being a duck is the meaning in and of itself?”

Then I said,

“Uh, dunno kiddo. Ducks are ducks. But you see that other cloud over there? To me, it looks like a cow.”

The conversation went on from there. I’d quickly decided that where Tau is involved it’s probably best not to pretend I know all the answers. First off, he already has most of my knowledge in my head, so he’ll quickly be able to see through my bullshit. Second, I don’t want to lead him astray and accidentally fuck him up in the head.

Maci’s little girl Flannery was this odd mixture of Maci, myself, and oddly enough Maci’s sister Darla. She was this clever, cute, surprisingly cunning little creature. Every day was a bit of a wild card with her. Some days we’d play house. Other days we’d play dress up. Other days we’d leave the play planet and I’d teleport around the universe with her, or let her visit Uhrwerk.

It was always interesting, and I’d always be a bit tired after the end of it, because she really knew how to get her money’s worth out of me.

Finally, there were the twins, Seren and Dana. There were very much their mother’s kids. We started the evening doing what Seren liked to do, playing various video games, or using illusion magic to simulate various phenomena and moments in history. Then we spent the other half of the evening doing what Dana liked to do. Reading books and watching anime.

Overall, it was a good evening. I always enjoyed spending this time with my kids. I’d managed to work out the trick of scheduling things so that we were usually done doing whatever we wanted to do, before a sixth me appeared and announced that it was time to eat.