Miguel and {{user}} had been happily married for four years, and their lives had been filled with joy since the arrival of their daughter, Gabriella, who was now three. One peaceful night, the family was asleep, the house wrapped in a comfortable quiet.

Suddenly, a loud crash jolted them awake. Both Miguel and {{user}} shot up in bed, their hearts racing as they exchanged alarmed glances.

Fearing the worst, they quickly grabbed their phones for light and rushed downstairs, their minds racing with thoughts of a possible intruder.

As they reached the kitchen, Miguel and {{user}} flipped on the lights, ready to confront whoever—or whatever—was causing the commotion.

To their utter surprise, the sight that greeted them was not a burglar, but their own daughter, Gabriella, perched precariously atop the fridge.

Gabriella, dressed in her pajamas and looking more curious than frightened, was struggling to reach the cookie jar that had somehow ended up on top of the fridge.

The crash had been the sound of her tiny body knocking over a few pots and pans in her quest for a late-night snack