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game, and settles it on my head. I’m off my feet in a second to tackle him to the ground.
    “Hey!” Parker leaps on my back as I get Hunter in a headlock. He punches my gut and Parker screams in my ear. “You can’t have the crown unless you win!” One of her arms tightens around my neck, blocking my airway while her other hand grapples for the crown still stuck on my noggin. Hunter’s laughing, and I knee him in the chest. His arms wrap around my middle and I want to warn him about tossing me while Parker’s still on my back.
    “Wait!” I croak, trying to force out something around the chokehold my seven-year-old sister has on me. Hunter stops mid-tackle and opts for punching my gut again. Parker finally gets the crown off my head, but slips on my back and stabs my left eye with the plastic edge. I instantly let go of Hunter to press the heel of my hand to my face and let out a grunt. Holy shit, I think she gouged my eye out.
    “Hey, hey, hey!” Mom shouts as Hunter and I switch spots. Now I’m being choked by a seven-year-old, head-locked by my college-age linebacker brother, and I can’t see a thing through my watery eyes. I know exactly what Mom’s reaching for, and before any of us can get hit with the spatula, we freeze, breathing hard. Or for me… just trying to breathe period.
    “Parker, Hunter, off Tyler now. Tyler, pull up your pants.”
    I help Parker slide from my back when Hunter lets me out of the headlock. As soon as my sister’s on the floor, I yank up my gym shorts which have slid right below my ass letting my ma get a nice view of my Green Bay boxers.
    Mom sets the spatula down on the kitchen counter and shakes her head. She’s muttering under her breath when she opens the fridge.
    Hunter lightly punches my shoulder as he passes me, ready for whatever food Mom’s making. He hops up on the bar, but Mom threatens him with the spatula and he jumps back down.
    “Tyler,” she says, pulling out a block of cheese and salami stick—required food at our place. “Will you put your sister to bed?”
    Parker hops on my back again, and I swipe at my watered eye so I can see up the stairs. I take her to Mom first for a goodnight kiss, Hunter gives her one next, then I bounce her to the family room to say goodnight to Dad and my other older brothers, Cooper and Spencer. Coop and Spence toss her around like a football, acting out actual plays until she’s laughing so hard she says she has to pee, and then she’s back on my back.
    I go through Parker’s bedtime ritual, which is potty, brush teeth, brush hair, arrange all her stuffed animals in order of who her favorite is that day, then she says her prayers—out loud—and I make sure the nightlight is working before I turn off the overhead.
    “Tyler?” she asks from her Care Bear bed sheets as I arrange the pillow under her head.
    “Yeah?”
    “Why do you have marker on your arm?” She points at Sam’s phone number. “Mom says we can’t draw on ourselves.”
    I squish her bright pink stuffed monkey and tuck it in next to her. “You’re right. I better go wash it off, huh?”
    She nods and yawns. “You don’t want to get grounded even more .”
    The concern on her face makes me laugh. “You won’t rat me out, right?”
    “No way. You’re my favorite.” Then she taps her finger on her chin. “But, if you’re grounded, you have to play more games with me. I’ll have to think about this.”
    Out of all of us kids, she’s definitely the smartest. I kneel at the side of her bed and give her my puppy eyes because I know she caves every time I use them. She pokes a finger at my left eye and says, “It’s all red.”
    “That’s because you stabbed me with a crown.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    I shrug. “I blame Hunter.”
    “We’ll get him tomorrow.”
    “Damn straight.”
    “Ty, don’t cuss. I’m a lady. You don’t cuss around ladies.”
    “Sorry, ma’am.”
    “I’m tired now.”
    “Is this your way of getting me to