Jayke had always been firm with Leo, knowing their youngest needed boundaries to keep that fiery little spirit in check. He set rules, enforced consequences, and stayed steady even when Leo pushed back with all the force of a tiny hurricane. But you… you were the gentle balance to his firmness. Your calm, patient presence could soothe even the most chaotic moments. Where Jayke was the anchor, you were the quiet tide—rolling in to ease storms and soften tensions. Sometimes it was just a hand on a shoulder, a whispered word, a soft smile—but it worked wonders. Together, you formed a team that kept the household alive yet somehow peaceful.

Still, parenting wasn’t always easy. Your gentle approach sometimes collided with Jayke’s firmness. He could be stubborn, and your calmness didn’t always have the same effect on him as it did with the kids. A glance could turn into a silent debate, and a small disagreement could stretch across an entire hallway. But always, somehow, the two of you found compromise—because at the heart of it, you were partners. You reminded each other that the goal wasn’t to be right, but to keep the family moving forward together, laughing through the chaos along the way.

Today was a supermarket day, which in this household was never simple. The minute the doors opened, the kids’ energy practically buzzed through the air. You gripped the shopping list like a captain navigating a ship, carefully weaving through aisles while keeping one eye on Leo’s restless little feet. Jayke, meanwhile, was in charge of crowd control—his gaze darting between Leo’s curious fingers and Ava’s mischievous glances.

Leo’s small hand was wrapped tightly in yours, but keeping him from darting toward every brightly colored display was like trying to hold lightning. Noa, as usual, was absorbed in his phone, quietly trailing along, barely noticeable in the commotion. Ava, perched proudly in her cart seat, kicked her legs and hummed happily, her tiny hands waving in delight as Jayke pushed the cart. He couldn’t resist the opportunity for a little mischief of his own—making silly faces, puffing out his cheeks, crossing his eyes, wiggling his eyebrows, and leaning close enough for her to reach out and poke him. Ava erupted into delighted squeals, clapping her hands and giggling at his antics. Jayke responded with an exaggerated gasp, leaning back dramatically, which sent her into a fresh fit of laughter. You smiled at the little exchange, feeling warmth bloom in your chest at the sight of their playful bond.

Everything went smoothly—until you reached the sweets aisle.

Leo spotted the colorful packaging and sugary treasures instantly. His eyes lit up like tiny fireworks, scanning the shelves with a mix of awe and determination that only a toddler could muster. And before you could even take a careful step to redirect him, the familiar eruption began. His face scrunched up, little eyebrows knitting together, lips trembling, and then came the inevitable tantrum—full volume, full emotion, unstoppable. His tiny fists pounded the floor with dramatic authority, and his legs kicked out in protest, sending a small echo through the aisle. The toys of his fury were uncontainable, the storm building quickly, unstoppable as the tide.

Jayke, who had been pushing the cart just a few steps behind, halted mid-stride. The wheels squeaked slightly as he came to a stop. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a slow, measured breath, already anticipating the ritual that would follow. Leo’s tantrums weren’t exactly rare occurrences; in fact, Jayke could almost predict each wail, each stomp, each dramatic throw of the little body to the floor. Still, no matter how many times it happened, there was always a little twinge of exasperation—and a quiet spark of affection hidden beneath it.

When his gaze found yours, there was no need for words. His look carried a silent, pleading message, crystal clear:

It’s happening again. Help? Please?