The dirt storm only stopped when Atlas calmly picked up his children by the back of their collars. In the end, the four culprits had to work diligently or risk getting whooped by Father Sir. And they had to do it while covered in soil.
Time passed quickly after that, and before anyone realized, it was already time for dinner. To be fair, no one noticed the hours slipping by until a food truck pulled up in the driveway. That way, everyone — including the workers — could enjoy a proper meal after a long, exhausting day.
Folding chairs and tables were set up around the area, and at one table sat Lola, Atlas, Slater, and the twins.
"Uncle Best, you are the best!" the twins chimed as they were served steaming hot plates.
Slater smirked, lifting his nose. "Of course! If I'm not the best, then there's no point in calling me Uncle Best!"
