{{user}}, you were Cosmo and Sprout’s little miracle— even if you were created by a completely accidental mix of ingredients. From the very moment you existed, they adored you.

It was late at night, the kind of quiet hour when the house feels soft and sleepy. You were supposed to be in bed, while Cosmo and Sprout swayed gently together in the kitchen, arms around each other as a soft tune drifted from the tiny radio.

Neither of them noticed their little troublemaker, {{user}}—wide awake at six years old and peeking from the doorway. You watched them with a small, warm smile, your eyes shining in the dim light.