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‘Our child dumped his piggy bank onto his bed. He’s having a Mardi Gras moment, hurling coins like beaded necklaces. ‘You can’t jump off the top bunk!,’ he tells our daughter.’

“I crack open a tired eyelid to see it’s not even 6 a.m. The rain beating down on our roof is drowned out by the billowing coming from our kids’ room. I lose my cool. It’s been under an hour of complete chaos. This is when my husband and I shift from relying on each other, to turning on each other.”

‘No, Mommy! I don’t need a potty!’ The kids erupted in giggles. I should’ve been suspicious LONG before. Holland had been consuming juice boxes and popsicles for HOURS, y’all.’

“I go full-fledged panic mode. Something is amiss. I can smell it. Holland: ‘I DONT NEED A POTTY!’ Ben: ‘BAHAHAHAHAHHAA! She doesn’t need a potty, Mom! Our clubhouse ALREADY HAD a potty!’ Golden Retriever: *whimpering slightly* I climb up the ladder. My children are pointing to… A dog bowl.”

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