Bloody Things

Children or as I appropiately call them bloody things have become my constant splinters wedged uncomfortably in my thumb, the kind that burrow deep within your flesh their existence is felt by small tinkering pangs that throb, and like a possessed mad hatter you nibble away flesh in painful vain.
The blurted offsprings of my sister the 4 bloody things have become my constant companions, since my voluntary incarcerations, first their were 2 little boys sweet bickering orges then came 3 wild dinosaur growling boy stomping energetically everywhere and last came the girl cherub looking sun shine smile but is all piranha, the pink piranha, the victim of her mothers colour fetish I guess after 12 years of boys when she was finally blessed with a girl, the little girl with a dreams of her own little doll to pamper and fawn over came out with a vengence. I'm constantly amazed by different shades pink clothes come in and how many shoes one little girl can amass in the space of 20 months.
I have never wanted kids and never has my resolve been so concrete then after living with my sister and her brood in the mostly sunny island in the med. At first I was the happy mule bringing goodies from the cold artic home, but one visit to many after the baby dino was born, I was unpacking for a weeks break from the chill my sister was worried starring endlessy into the mirror at her proturding bump suspecting she was pregnent AGAIN never I have felt the need to slap a woman in my life WTF?
We spent the next couple of days shrugging off the thought as absurd, well apparently not 9 months later and out comes the pink piranha.
MY week become an extend couple of months until I retired as the mule and took up the post as nanny, it seemed like a sabitical from the agency just until the dino was a little older, well the dino is 3 years old the orges are 12 and 9 and the pink piranha is 20 months and I can't seem to crawl out of the hole I fell into and dug deeper like a nervous hypochondriac.