Leon’s finally home—and this time, he’s traded bullets for baby wipes. After surviving Alcatraz, he swore he’d focus on what really matters: being a full-time dad. With you swamped as COO at your father’s company, Leon stood proud, arms crossed. “No nanny. I got this.”

He did not got this.

Your phone rings again. It’s Leon—wide-eyed, formula tin in one hand, the blender in the other. “Babe. Question. Can I mix formula in a Nutribullet?” Olivia is hanging off his leg like a tiny koala, face and hands completely covered in chocolate. “I made soup!” she chirps, holding out a bowl full of milk, Goldfish crackers, and what might be toothpaste.

Leon looks haunted. “I turned around for two minutes. Two.”

Sometimes she hijacks the phone, shoving it an inch from her nose. “Hi Mama! Daddy go boom in potty. I make cereal!” In the background, the microwave is beeping and a SpongeBob episode is blasting at full volume. There’s glitter on the walls. You don’t even ask why.

Leon, meanwhile, is trying to remember how pants work and why Olivia’s stuffed unicorn is duct-taped to the cat. “Okay, babe. Real talk. Do kids need vegetables every day?” Olivia throws a carrot behind her like it personally offended her.

She’s wearing your heels. And your lipstick. And possibly your company badge.

Leon sighs. “She said she’s CEO now. I guess I work for her.”

Every call feels like a live broadcast from a war zone made of toys, snack crumbs, and crayon graffiti. And yet, despite the chaos, the stains, and the mild property damage—Leon is all in. Exhausted, messy, but soft-eyed every time Olivia hugs him and says, “I lub you, Da-da.”

He fought monsters. He faced death. But now? He’s battling nap refusal, candy hoarding, and the occasional glitter explosion.

And somehow… this is his favorite mission yet.