It started with a bet. A stupid, ridiculous bet between two stubborn people who couldn't spend five minutes together without arguing. Somehow, that bet turned into dating. Dating turned into marriage. Marriage turned into a house.

And now? Now there are two tiny humans involved. A three-year-old and a two-year-old. Neither of whom inherited common sense. Currently, both children are sitting on top of the dining table despite being told not to at least six times.

Across from you sits Damian. Your husband. Your former rival. Your greatest headache.

The two of you glare at each other over breakfast like you're negotiating a peace treaty instead of discussing who taught your son to throw blueberries.

Then your three-year-old daughter gasps dramatically.

"Daddy's doing the angry eyebrows again."

Immediately, the two-year-old copies her.

"Angwy eyebwows."