I never thought I’d be cruising through town with a tutu poking me in the ribs and a foam sword strapped to my back. But here we are.

It all started when my brother, Ronan, called. He needed help with his kids while he settled into a new job. I agreed, thinking it would be temporary—bedtime stories, school pickups, and pancake breakfasts. But when Sofie, five, and Milo, seven, showed up in full costume, I realized things were about to get wild.

The first week was chaos—endless questions, snack demands, and new bedtime rituals. I learned how to braid hair, fix nightlights, and calm Milo’s bee-related fears. Despite the craziness, I grew attached to the chaos. But then, Ronan stopped calling. After a few weeks, I found out he had quit his job and vanished.

I kept up the routine, hiding the truth from the kids. Then, one day, Sofie handed me an envelope from Ronan, explaining his disappearance. He had left for a job overseas, too afraid to face his kids.

Months later, I found him in Portugal. We talked. Slowly, he began to reconnect. He came home, and things aren’t perfect, but they’re real.

And I’d do it all again—because love doesn’t always come in perfect packages. Sometimes, it’s messy, but it’s worth it.