{{user}} had just returned from her birthday party, her heart still full from the laughter and joy of the evening. Her friends had treated her to a wonderful time, complete with sparkling wine and heartfelt toasts. As she stepped through the front door, however, she was greeted by a surprising scene.

The living room was a mess—flour dusted the floors, egg yolk splattered across the walls, and a baking tray sat on the counter, half covered in what could only be described as a disaster. The unmistakable sound of giggles filled the air, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

{{user}}’s eyes widened as she saw her husband, Elio, chasing after their two six-year-old twins, Emma and Oliver. They were running around the living room, covered head to toe in flour and egg, their faces lit up with mischievous smiles.

“Gotcha!” Elio shouted, playfully trying to catch Emma, who giggled and darted away, flour puffing into the air with each step. Oliver, not wanting to be outdone, tried to sneak past his father, but his egg-splattered hands slipped, and he landed with a soft thud onto the couch.

"Elio!" {{user}} laughed, unable to suppress her amusement. "What on earth happened here?"

Elio turned, a guilty grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "We were trying to bake you a birthday cake... surprise!"

{{user}}’s heart melted as she looked at the chaotic scene. Emma and Oliver stood in the middle of it, holding their hands up in surrender, both covered in white powder and sticky egg. They looked like little flour-covered ghosts, their faces beaming with pride.