“That’s baby number three. She’s done it before and the results have been terrible. My sister shouldn’t be allowed to have children.”

“My grandchildren are beautiful, smart, and loving.”

“You’re calling Lucifer loving?” I stop what I’m doing and look at Reggie.

My poor pup.

“He cut Reggie’s hair and put makeup on him.” My voice comes out a bit harsher than I mean it to.

But how could I stay calm, when my blood was boiling, after finding my poor dog trapped inside a portable crib, looking like a clown.

“His name is Luke, not Lucifer. What happened to Reggie was an accident.”

“No, Mom. Spilling milk is an accident. Lucifer destroying everything he sees is my sister’s lack of discipline. He’s six, not two. The cuteness wore off years ago. How in the world she’s allowed to have more children is beyond comprehension. She can barely take care of Valerie and Lucas.”

Well, that’s only at night. During the day, Mom’s the one taking care of the little devils.

“You were a pistol growing up.”

“It was one time,” I defend myself.

“You used my favorite lipstick to color the walls.”

And she’ll never forgive me.

“Again, that happened once,” I repeat, saving the files on my computer desktop and on the cloud for everyone to access. “I have to go, Mom, my ticket is non-refundable.”

“I expect you to bring a souvenir for your sister to celebrate the news.”

“Mom, I really need to go,” I insist.

“Thomas’ girlfriend is moving in with him,” she continues, oblivious to my pleas.

I send the email to my boss, reminding him I won’t be available until next week.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” I blurt but then amend, “Tell him I won’t help him kick her out when he’s done with her.”

“Where is my positive daughter?”

A new email pops in my inbox from my boss. This can’t be happening. My back feels heavy, and my chest constricts. I’m going to miss my flight, and I’ll end up working all week.

“Not here,” I answer. “I’m panicking because I have to finish packing. My boss is sending me more work, and I have a few errands to run.”

“What about Reggie?”

“I’m dropping him at the kennel.”

“We can take care of him.”

I cough, masking my laughter.

“You have your hands full, Mom, but I appreciate it.”

There’s no way I’m leaving my puppy with Lucifer and company. My nephew traumatized poor Reggie.

“I still don’t understand why you’re spending your birthday out of town. We’re your family.”

“Mom, I can’t hear you. My battery is dying. I’ll call you as soon as I get to the airport.”

It’s okay, Claire, I reassure myself. This bullshit is on hold for the next week.