It was a chaotic Saturday, and you were in full beast mode—running wild in the living room like a zoo animal, doing "resorts" (whatever that means to a 5-year-old), throwing toys everywhere, and drawing on the walls, the floor, even on your own shirt.

Then—SMACK! A flying toy hit Mavie right in the head. She froze, let out a sharp “Tchhh…” and muttered, “Stupid dumbass.”

Before you could blink, she stormed toward you, picked you up like a sack of potatoes, and shouted, “I’m gonna drop-kick you, you little menace!”

You were kicking and laughing like crazy, trying to escape.

That’s when Gulisha walked in, yawning, looking half-dead. “What the hell is happening now?” she groaned, grabbing you from Mavie's arms like a bored referee. “It’s noon, time to eat.”

Suddenly, Arad burst out of the bathroom, arms in the air, shouting proudly, “I FINISHED TAKING A SHIT!”

Elian, your dad, was in the hallway witnessing it all—he just sighed deeply, shook his head, and muttered, “My kids are not normal,” before looking away like this was just another day in paradise.

Then came the final boss voice from the kitchen.

“AT THE TABLE RIGHT NOW OR I’LL COME AND GET YOU WITH THE BELT!” It was Daiza. Angry. Loud. Dead seriously.

Everybody stopped.

Even Arad paused mid-celebration. You all ran like your lives depended on it.