Straight people, you're appreciated. I will make an effort to make more straight shit just to show that. Plus, I think Stendy is cute when it's not complicated.
Warnings: Cursing and sort of sexual content or at least talking about sex... yeah.
Ages: 30 both. (Don't mind me and my love for writing families that aren't at all broken... unlike mine. Sorry.)
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Wendy's POV.

I open my eyes to see Stan.

"Morning! Wanna get up?" He asks.

"What time is it?" I ask, muttering.

"Don't worry, you're not in a hurry," Stan says, laughing.

"I really want to know, what time it is," I say.

"Your phone is next to you, mine is in the next room. Do you really think I know, what time it is?" Stan asks.

I look at it. 7:55.

"It's Friday... right?" I ask.

He nods.

"Are the kids up yet?" I ask.

"No," Stan says.

"Oh yeah, it's Christmas holiday, isn't it?" I ask.

"Yeah," Stan says.

"Then why are you waking me up so damn early?" I ask.

"You told me to," Stan says.

"Oh... I did?" I ask.

I get up.

"Hey! Wilma! Rowan!" Stan yells.

"Do I have to?" I ask.

Stan chuckles.

"You're the mom here. Do you?" He asks.

"What are you gonna do?" I ask.

"It would be a good time, if I could but I have to check up on the business today. Damn Kyle forgot to mention that to me," Stan says.

"Forgot? Doesn't sound like him?" I ask.

"Didn't forget, I'm pretty sure his kid's sick. That's what you get for having three kids!" Stan says.

I laugh.

"You're nobody to speak, you have third coming," I say.

"THAT'S QUITE THE WAY TO TELL ME!" Stan pretty much screams.

I shrugs.

"Don't worry... you have what... 8 and a half months to figure it out?" I ask.

Stan shrugs.

"Hey. At least I have... wait, I can't count. Wilma's... can't be 12 already? Rowan is 7... Yeah, he's seven. While Kyle is just 6, 4, 2. Does he get a break goddamnit?" Stan asks.

"The fact his condom didn't break isn't anything you can particularly criticise. The man got married before having his kids," I say.

"Doesn't matter. His kids are fucking nightmares," Stan says.

"How would you feel if someone called Wilma and Rowan nightmares?" I ask.

"Wendy, I'm all for being morally correct but his kids are nothing like Rowan and Wilma. Poor Kyle, has to look after them every other day," Stan says.

"Don't talk bad about kids, Stan. Why did I marry you again?" I joke.

"Because you love me?" He asks.

"Hmm, debatable," I say.

I kiss him.

"Ew! Mom and dad are kissing!" Rowan says.

"Rowan, shut the fuck up," Wilma answers.

"Alright missy. Do I have to wash you mouth with soup?" Stan asks.

"Nooo," Wilma says.

She hides behind me, even though she's my height, maybe a couple of inches off... at least now that she's growing. I'm fairly sure that since I'm an inch taller than Stan, Wilma is getting her height from some far far away relative. Stan is really short now that I think about it. He says that his genes were stupid? He looked like he was ten to 14 until he was maybe 18? Then he started to slowly look like an adult. But as normal people, his growing age ran out because he didn't grow quite as fast as he should have? I don't remember how it went.

"Don't you have a book report on the sixth?" Stan asks Wilma.

"Two. I'm working my ass off for this grade. I already read Carrie," Wilma says.

"As in Stephen King's Carrie?" Stan asks.

Wilma nods.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Wilma, it's not for people of your age group," Stan says.

"Carrie isn't from the worst side," Wilma says.

Stan groans.

"It's not about that... I just... you should have asked," Stan says.

"Dad! You read worse when you were younger!" Wilma says.

"I don't know about the book," I say.

Stan sighs.

"Carrie is about an abused girl who gets telekinesis, goes crazy, kills a hell of a lot of people and all that," Stan says.

"Pretty classic Stephen King," I say.

Stan sighs.

"I don't mean Wilma isn't mature enough, at all. It's just-," Stan says.

"If you have tits or like sex, you're a sinner and God hates your guts?" Wilma asks.

"That... does it teach that? Doesn't sound like something Stephen King would write," I say.

"It's a good book, I don't just really like the idea of Wilma reading it yet," Stan says.

I shrug.

"Can't be that bad. Wilma should know quite a lot of it already. She's a smart girl," I say.

Stan sighs.

"The kids in my class are like Chris is to Carrie," Wilma says.

"Towards who?" Stan asks.

"Me," Wilma says.

"Oh honey. What happened?" Stan asks.

"They don't like me. They think I'm stupid and that I shouldn't be with boys as much as I am. Call me a whore because of how many friend boys I have," Wilma says.

"Don't listen, they're just jealous of how awesome you are," Stan says.

Wilma nods.

"Olly says that they're shit fuckers, I like that. Shame Olly and I cant have the same gym, both of us could pretend we like it," she says.

Rowan is still just standing there.

"Dad. Can you ask Kyle if Mío's free today?" Rowan asks.

I smile at Stan.

"I can handle it," he says.

He takes Rowan somewhere. I swear, Rowan and Mío are best friends or something. I guess they are the closest in age. Considering Mío is 6, 7 by the 29th and Rowan is 7, 8 in January.

"Mom," Wilma says.

I look at her.

"The girls think I should wear make up, I have a big nose according to them," Wilma says.

"No, you don't need it," I say.

"Nor do you," She says.