"Sinny's always so cranky," Myron said, scrunching up a face. Of course some of that could have been because Myron insisted on calling him 'Sinny', or some other ridiculous names. Plus, he sort of liked the triplets. They were fun, and cute and messy - sort of reminded him of him, really. Except much smaller. And could probably get away with more.
"I call everyone by nicknames," he pointed out with one of those grins of his that made it difficult for people to stay mad at him for too long (although some people tried!). Myron could be a pain in the arse, could tease people, flirt shamlessly, and be generally incorrigable.. and yet he was a good bloke, where it counted.
"Are you trying to keep us apart?" he asked with big eyes of his own. "Just because we spilled all that paint last time..." Yes, Myron had been finger painting with the triplets. It was fun! How often did a bloke get to have that kind of fun?
"That's what Uncles are for, Donny," he said, letting little fingers steal some of the sweets from his palm. "To get them all sugared up." His eyes were twinkling. "I'll stay and help you put them down if you want, though." 'Help' was a dubious word. He could hold them though! Well two, he had two arms. And could help wrestle them into pjs and do things like that.