Ah, parenthood! That beautiful journey where silence doesn’t mean a moment of peace — it’s the calm before the apocalypse. Why is it so quiet? I’d ask myself, heart pounding like a drum. This wasn’t ordinary silence. This was the silence. The kind that whispered — run while you still can.

The longest 30 seconds of my life? Walking from the kitchen to the kids’ room. Plenty of time for my imagination to serve up scenarios like:

• Is the younger one eating the older one?
• Did they both team up to eat the hamster?
• Is it even possible to coat the entire floor in cream in this time? Spoiler: YES!

One day, my kids decided to test the capacity of a Nivea cream tub. The results were impressive. Turns out, one container is enough to:

• Repaint the room white.
• Pioneer a bold new makeup trend.
• Prove that a toddler can be slipperier than a fish at the market.

Respect to the manufacturer — that’s some quantum level magic, fitting that much cream into such a tiny jar.

Now that my babies are teenagers, noses in phones, aura of – don’t bother me, I sometimes catch myself missing it. Yes, missing the thrill.

Parenthood: the only role where disaster isn’t a matter of if — it’s when. And yet, I adore every minute of it. Well, almost every minute.