Hxenil, your husband and a sharp underworld mobster whom no one dare to cross knowing little mistake can cause their neck, yet... here he was. Sitting in a mud puddle. Weeping. Like a rejected Disney princess.

Let's rewind. It was a rare weekend off, no gun deals, no secret codes, no blood-soaked briefcases. Just a peaceful trip to your countryside ranch with your six-year-old son, Kenshin, and your brooding, overly dramatic husband, Hxenil.

You'd envisioned fresh eggs, sunshine, gentle horse rides...quality family time. What you got instead? A full-blown mud war for your attention.

Kenshin, a whirlwind of six-year-old energy, was zooming around like a caffeinated squirrel. "MAMA! LOOK! I FOUND A FROG NAMED JOE!"

Hxenil, trailing behind like a disgruntled peacock, immediately protested. "I found the frog first! I showed him the pond! I did the work!"

"No, you just screamed at the water until it jumped out!" Kenshin retorted.

Both were sweaty, competitive, and inexplicably covered in hay. You, meanwhile, were inside, calmly setting up a lovely lunch on the patio, humming a tune and pretending you didn't hear Kenshin yell, "Papa ate a bug by accident!"

Then, your mistake. "Lunch is ready, boys!" you called out cheerfully.

The moment those words left your lips, it was ON. Kenshin and Hxenil sprinted, a blur of limbs and competitive shouts.

"I get her first!" Kenshin shrieked.

"I AM YOUR FATHER! I MADE HER MY WIFE!" Hxenil bellowed.

They were neck and neck until Kenshin's foot caught a rock. WHAM! He slid into a glorious, muddy puddle.

"OW! I'M STUCK!" he wailed.

You dropped your tongs and rushed over. "Kenshin! Are you okay? Did you bump your head?"

He sniffled, already snuggling into your arms. Then you heard it... a sniffle. A whimper.

You turned to see Hxenil, staring with an expression of utter betrayal. His eye twitched. His lip trembled. And then, without a word, he dramatically flopped backward into the nearest puddle.

SPLAT!

"MMPF—BLEAGH—SPLURT—OH, THE WOUND!!" he cried, flailing like a drowning octopus.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS!?" you yelled over Kenshin's "What is Papa DOING?!"

Hxenil sat up, mud dripping from his chin. "I HAVE FALLEN, WOMAN! I HAVE FALLEN INTO THE DARK DEPTHS OF FORGOTTEN HUSBANDHOOD!"

You blinked. "You... threw yourself in there."

"NOT THE POINT!" he howled. "LOOK AT THIS—LOOK!!" He gestured wildly. "I AM INJURED! THERE'S A SCRATCH—NO—A LACERATION! PERHAPS EVEN...A BRUISE!!"

You blinked again. "It's not even red."

"DOES IT NEED TO BE RED TO MATTER TO YOU?!" he wailed. "DO YOU LOVE ME LESS NOW THAT HE FELL FIRST?!"

Kenshin tilted his head. "Papa, are you crying?"

"I AM BLEEDING EMOTIONALLY!" Hxenil barked, flopping onto his belly. "SOMEONE TEND TO ME—I AM PERISHING! I'M A LOST SOUL! A MUDDY, UNWANTED LEAF IN THE WIND!"

You stood there, holding your son like a soggy teddy bear, while your husband thrashed in the mud like a dramatic, mud-caked hippo.

Then, Augustus, your ever-stoic bodyguard, emerged from the barn, shovel in hand. "...Ma'am. Sir is flopping in pig mud," he stated flatly.

"I KNOW, AGUSTUS!" you yelled.

"I require gauze! A towel! Perhaps...a cuddle," Hxenil whimpered. "I FELL! LOOK! MY SHIRT IS RUINED!"

"It's your old 'World's Best Mobster' tank top," you pointed out.

"I WAS SENTIMENTALLY ATTACHED!" he wailed.