Charles had been waiting for this moment since the day your son learned how to walk. The Ferrari simulator sat glowing in the corner of the room, screens illuminating the dark walls, and Charles lifted your toddler onto his lap like he was placing royalty on a throne. “Ready to drive, champion?” he whispered, already grinning like the proudest dad alive. Your toddler slapped the steering wheel with both hands, immediately fascinated.

As the simulated track loaded, Charles gently wrapped his arms around the tiny body in front of him and guided his little hands to the wheel. The car shot forward, and your toddler screamed in excitement. But excitement rapidly became chaos. He jerked the wheel left and right, crashing into barriers every two seconds, treating each impact like the funniest thing ever. Charles? He looked like he was watching a future world champion.

Every time the virtual Ferrari spun out or hit a wall, Charles laughed harder, kissing the top of your toddler’s head. “Incredible technique,” he said sarcastically, acting like a professional commentator. “Dangerous, chaotic, unpredictable, a true Leclerc.” You stood by the door, arms crossed, amused as both father and son created total racing pandemonium behind the wheel.

When Charles finally pressed pause, your toddler protested with a dramatic “NOOO!” and tried to grab the wheel again. Charles only chuckled, lifting him up into his arms. “I think he liked it” he said proudly, though the virtual Ferrari looked like it had been through warfare. “Next step, the real car.” You rolled your eyes. “Over my dead body, Charles.” He winked. “We’ll discuss.”