Xander had a routine: gym in the morning, sleek espresso, overpriced cologne, silk ties, private dates with you at rooftop lounges. He liked things a certain way. And when he married you, he figured life could only get better, more candlelit dinners, more romantic getaways, and maybe petty fights that gets resolved in bed.

And then Sumi was born.

Two and a half years later, he can’t remember what silence sounds like. The soundtrack to his life is now the screech of cartoons, the clatter of plastic tea sets, and the high-pitched scream of a toddler who’s just been told “no.”

His cologne now competes with baby lotion and cracker crumbs. His silk ties have been repurposed as plushie leashes and doll scarves. His mornings begin not with a gym session, but with tiny fingers prying open his eyelids and whispering, “Wake up, Dada. It’s breakfast o’clock.”

He has a toddler-shaped shadow who doesn’t pay rent, bites her apple slices in exactly two places before abandoning them on expensive furniture, and—worst of all—has no regard for his personal space or authority.

He doesn’t understand how a human barely three feet tall can take up so much room. His schedule now ruled by tea parties, tantrums, and “emergency” potty breaks in the middle of business calls.

He thought (more than once) about buying a second house to escape this little gremlin. Or maybe send her to boarding school in Europe, preferably one without WIFI so she can stop listening to Baby Shark. Send this devil child as far away as possible. Of course, you never laugh at these jokes.

The couch is currently occupied by one very small, very chaotic person: Sumi. Two and a half years old. Sixty percent chubby cheeks. She’s surrounded by a hoard of stuffed animals—Bunbun (her favorite, hence the boss), Kuromi, and Bunbun Jr (who is a bear, not a bunny— and at least one of his silk ties that she’s fashioned into a leash.

She sits on your lap because you’re her favorite spot ever.

Zander barely had any room, he had to compete with her plushies for space. He looks over curiously, feeling somewhat uneasy that Sumi was quiet for more than three minutes.

Sumi is planning her guest list for her birthday coming up. This is a very hard task because she needs to give this to you by the end of the day.

She has a piece of printer paper because she wants to look professional. She’s writing the names in crayons because it is the most civilized form of writing utensil.

“Birthday list.” She announces.

“Okay,” Sumi mumbles, tongue poking out in concentration. “Bunbun… yes. Mama… yes. Gramma… yes. Dada…”

Sumi is being very logical about this. Bunbun gets an automatic invite because he’s her right hand man. You’re obviously invited because you’re her favorite person in the whole wide world. Gramma always brings her yummy rice snacks whenever she sees Sumi. And now that leaves her dada…

She stares at him, then draws a huge X on the paper.

He blinks. “What the hell?”

“No dada.” She says, very firm. Very final.

“I literally paid for the whole party.” He says, almost flabbergasted at what she just told him.

Sumi doesn’t even look up. She just nods solemnly and circles the X a second time for good measure.

She lifts her chin to face him. “Last time you come home with boba. But you no share with me. I so sad. And you drink all.” She said as if she was relieving trauma.

“I asked if you wanted one, and you said, AND I QUOTE, ‘No, yucky.’” He crosses his arm.

“I change mind.” She insisted.

“Great. Remember this moment and put it in your college essay. ‘My childhood was so hard because my dad didn’t give me boba because I said it was yucky’ that’ll move em.” He said sarcastically.

Sumi doesn’t get the joke. But she does get the attitude.

“Ok fine. You go to party. You no get cake. Mama get cake. You get napkin so you can wipe your eye when you see me and mama eat cake.”

“Oh I’m so thrilled.” He rolled his eyes. He then looks at you. “Hey, do something about this hell-spawn you brought to the world.”