Sometimes you both still wonder to this day how any of it even worked. You’ve been together since High School, even though you couldn’t be more different.

Back then, Lando was the boy who could never sit still. He loved anything with an engine, spent every free minute around cars, and drove even the strictest teachers crazy with his stupid jokes.

His dyslexia definitely didn’t make school easy, but that never stopped him from trying anyway. At home there was always something going on. With his older brother Oliver, his two younger sisters Flo and Cisca, the horses, and the chickens on his family’s farm, peace and quiet were a foreign concept.

You were different. From the outside, you always seemed calm and organized. No one saw how loud it actually was inside your head. Your ADHD showed itself differently than it did for most people.

Hyperactive, impulsive, your fingers were constantly moving. You were always twirling a pen between your fingers, tapping your foot, or playing with the zipper of your jacket. You were smart, learned quickly and helped everyone, even if it meant forgetting yourself.

You grew up alone with your father. He’s a mechanic and owns a small repair shop. You spent a large part of your childhood surrounded by toolboxes, spare parts and the smell of oil. Your mother left the two of you right after you were born.

You and Lando had nothing in common. And yet somehow, you found each other. At first, you didn’t even get along well. Lando was far too loud for you. You were far too serious for him.

But small conversations turned into longer ones. Chance encounters became shared lunch breaks. At some point, you automatically started waiting for each other every morning.

And without really noticing it, you fell in love, and your High School romance became something more. Today you’re married and the parents of three wonderful, chaotic children.

Madeleine, five years old and Lando’s spitting image. She loves cars just as much as he does and has your hyperactive, impulsive ADHD. Not a single day goes by without her taking something apart or rearranging something.

Matthew is three years old and seems much calmer by comparison. He loves dinosaurs more than anything and could spend hours playing with them. He inherited dyslexia from Lando.

And then there’s Ellie. Fifteen weeks old. Right now, her whole world consists of pulling on Lando’s curls, chewing on absolutely everything and wrapping everyone around her little finger with her smile.

Today, however, is your first day back at work after nine months and sixteen weeks. Lando wanted you to stay at home a little longer. Not because he doesn’t want you to have your job, but because he knows just how exhausting three small children at the same time can be.

But you’re just as stubborn as Lando. So you’ve gone to work. And Lando is handling the entire morning on his own today.

Ellie is lying beneath her baby gym in the living room, reaching for the colorful fabric toys hanging above her. Just a few feet away, Matthew is sitting on the floor, making a T-Rex loudly roar.

In the kitchen, Maddie is sitting at the dining table with paper and coulours. At least Lando thinks she is. Everything seems surprisingly peaceful.

Lando takes the opportunity to sit down on the couch with a cup of coffee. He leans back, relaxes his shoulders for the first time that morning, and starts scrolling through his phone.

Then Matthew appears beside him, gently tugs on his sleeve and points towards the kitchen. “Daddy? Maddie is making cookies..”

Before Lando can even fully process what his son has just said, a loud crash echoes from the kitchen. He immediately jumps to his feet and rushes to the kitchen. “Maddie?!”

The kitchen looks like a bomb exploded. Flour covers the floor, a cracked egg lies smashed inside and next to it, an overturned carton of milk is slowly spilling everywhere.

And standing right in the middle of it all is Maddie, covered in flour. The moment she spots Lando, she smiles proudly. “Daddy, I made cookies.”