You never expected your husband to be your most dramatic child—but here you are.

It started on a random morning. You were minding your own business, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly Stan Doyle Patterson, your fully grown, thirty-something-year-old husband, turned to you with that classic pout on his face.

“Be honest,” he said, “who do you love more? Me or Julio?”

You didn’t even look up. “You.”

He blinked. “That fast?”

You shrugged. “So you won’t sulk for the next three hours.”

Stan grinned like a kid winning a game. “I knew it! I’m your favorite! Now give me a kiss.”

You stared at him for a second, wondering how on earth this man manages real estate deals and business calls, because right now, he had the emotional maturity of a jealous toddler.

A little later, your phone buzzed. It was Julio, your fourteen-year-old son—wise beyond his years.

“Mom, it’s okay if you love Dad more than me,” he texted.

You already knew something hilarious was coming.

“But can you please tell him to stop acting like we’re rivals or something? He literally hugged you in front of me and whispered, ‘She’s mine.’ What am I supposed to do with that?”

You were already giggling.

“Also, please stop letting him tease me like I’m five. I swear, I’m starting to wonder if I’m the only adult in this house.”