How Old Is Peppa Pig's Dad Novels & Stories

“Like hundred?” I couldn't help but smile, utterly amused, as our children laughed, taunting Eduardo. “Aw, do you think daddy is that old?” Eduardo asked, smiling. “Maybe.” “I'm Thirty three.” He replied, to which Henry and Olivia giggled again. “Daddy is so old.” Olivia said, clasping her hand over her mouth as her giggles became louder. “No, I'm not old. Henry and Olivia are old.” He argued. “We are not old,” Henry argued. “We are five. Daddy is like seven times our age. That's so old.”

Me landing on his back, both of us laughing. “He tickled me, so I had to get away from him.” I said as I laughed. “She turned on me. I had to avoid being tickled some how.” Jax grumbled. “I thought all, but one of my pups were adults, but it appears I was wrong.” Dad chuckled. “We can be both.” Jax stated. “I guess you can.” Dad agreed. “When was the last time you did something child like dad?” Jax asked. “Um….son, I’m in my 40s, what do you think?”

It’s still so weird not to be living with them anymore. My parents are the two most amazing people on the whole planet. My dad Craig is 48 but he looks late 20s, is 5’8” with chiselled features, a pointed nose, a warm smile, and deep brown eyes. Dad used to have shoulder-length brown hair, but he’s starting to bald on stop so now he keeps his hair shaved so it’s not as obvious, and I think the shaved look suits him - goes with his 5 o’clock shadow too.

Edeline “Wait—we? Dad knows too?” Of course he did. He’s a beta—he could probably smell the damn hormones from a mile away. Still, I was only eighteen, and Percival was twenty-two. Dad had always been quietly… protective about the age gap. Even though he and Mom had been younger when she got pregnant with Nixx.

dad said, standing up from his seat. “Okay” papa Pat said, standing up from his seat. Papa, Pat is a 70 years old man, and he looks 50, he is very strong. If not because of his white beards and hair, you won’t even know he is up to 70. We all went to the dining room, but a hand grabbed me back harshly.

“I know. Dad was pissed yesterday when he got the news.” Krista took my face in her hands. “Are you okay? He took it out on you, huh? That…that…” “Krista.” I gave her a hard look, cutting her off. “I’m fine. Alpha has been running him around and he is coming home more tired than I’ve ever seen. I think his age is finally catching up to him.” “Alpha Damian is technically the next generation. How old is your dad now?” I hummed, thinking as we walked to our biology class. “This year he will be forty-four.”

"Dad." "Miranda," the man said, his eyes smiling as he looked at her. "It's been a long time. You've grown into a fine young woman." Miranda stood up and ran to hug him. "Dad, you're finally out. I've missed you so much!" The man was in his fifties and slightly taller than Miranda. He was still looking strong and fit. Patting Miranda’s head affectionately, he said, "You've been through a lot these past few years."

Dad grinned, thumping my back. "Thanks, Dad," I muttered. "That's way too many close friends, don't you think?" "Oh come on, " He guffawed. "How often will you turn twenty-eight anyway?" "Right," I muttered under my breathe. Like aging was something to be celebrated, "Come on, let's party!" Dad exclaimed, pulling me by arms and I groaned. I was literally not a party person The next hour went meeting people, discussing business, and drinking champagne. Lots and lots of champagne.

"Thank you Derric. I know it will be hard for you. Wait if your 200 years old how old are your parents?" "My mother is 700 years and my dad 1000 years." "Damn that's old." He laughs. A stomach rumbling laugh. Can it be true that I finally found my one true love? Can all this be mine if I accept him? "What time is it?" He looks at his watch. "Its at 11pm. Why?"

She seized our stepfather's hand and declared, "Mom, Dad, I want to be with you!" I, however, ran behind my grandfather and clutched his calloused hand. Across from me, Phoebe curled her lips into a mocking smile. I knew then—she must have been reborn, too. In our previous life, after Father died, we had faced this same choice. Phoebe had overheard at the funeral that Grandpa was a wealthy antique collector, so she chose him without hesitation. Before leaving, she even raised her chin proudly and sneered at me, "Soon I'll be enjoying life with Grandpa. As for you, just wait—you'll be stuck babysitting for our stepdad like some lowly servant."