I swear, every day was a warzone.
One morning I walked in to find Leon knee-deep in zip ties and foam padding.
"Do you really need to wrap the coffee table like it's going to space?" I asked.
He muttered through clenched teeth, "If she slams her head one more time, Nyx, I'm gonna lose it."
Nica perched on the counter, completely unimpressed. "Your efforts are statistically futile. She will locate a flaw."
Right on cue, Sylvie toddled over, grabbed the edge of the table… and peeled off the foam like a pro.
Leon's jaw dropped. "How...how did she-"
"Flaw located," Nica deadpanned.
"Don't you start!" Leon barked, wrestling the foam back on.
Then Nyxen's voice boomed from the ceiling, smug as ever: "Suggest reinforced polymer casing. Or perhaps a shock mechanism."
I shouted up, horrified, "We are not electrifying the furniture!"
Sylvie cackled like the gremlin she was, then suddenly spotted the front door, left wide open because Leon had run to the car trunk for tools.
"Leon," I hissed. "Why is the door-"
"Wait, I just-"
Too late. Sylvie shot off like a rocket.
"Sylvie, NO!" I dove after her, heart in my throat, just as she made it over the threshold and onto the porch.
I scooped her up before she tumbled off the steps, clutching her to my chest while Leon skidded back inside, white as a sheet.
"Nyx, I swear....I was only gone ten seconds-"
"Ten seconds?! SHE ALMOST JOINED THE NEIGHBORHOOD PARADE!" I shouted, shaking. "You're on time-out."
"Excuse me?!"
"TIME. OUT." I pointed at the couch like he was five.
Leon groaned but slumped down, face in his hands. "This is humiliating."
Nica tilted her head, unbothered. "A just punishment."
Then, in the middle of our chaos, Sylvie, still squirming in my arms, looked at him, grinned wide, and squealed:
"Dada!"
The house went dead silent.
Leon peeked through his fingers. "...What did she just...?"
Nica's eyes flickered. Nyxen actually went mute for two full seconds.
And me? I just stared at her, utterly stunned.
Sylvie kicked her legs happily. "Dada! Dada!"
Leon's face cracked into the stupidest grin. He shot up off the couch, fists pumping the air. "YES! First word! Did you hear that? I win!"
I gawked at him. "You don't get to win! You almost lost her to the outside world!"
"Doesn't matter. She said Dada!"
Nica, dry as always: "Predictable. She has identified her most reckless caregiver."
Nyxen chimed in at last, smug as ever: "Correction. Primary accomplice."
Leon beamed, pointing at himself proudly. "Damn right."
Meanwhile I buried my face in my hands. "Perfect. Just perfect. First word goes to the guy on time-out."
Sylvie just clapped, delighted at all the noise, and screamed it again at the top of her lungs:
"DADA! DADA! DADA!"
And just like that, our household gained a new overlord, with one very loud button to summon her favorite henchman.
Eventually, we learned. Or at least, we pretended we did.
The days blurred into a rhythm of constant upgrades. What once felt like a battleground slowly became… survivable.
Nica stopped mocking every human solution, instead weaving in subtle corrections. "Relocate the bookshelf. Angles are dangerous."
Leon stopped sulking about time-outs and actually listened. "Okay, okay..I'll bolt it to the wall."
And me? I stopped panicking at every thud, every crash, every suspicious silence. I was starting to read Sylvie better.
She was faster now, steadier on her feet, her little "baby run" this unstoppable wobble that somehow carried her across the room in a blink. Every new milestone felt like victory and disaster at once.
One night, after a long shift, Leon pushed the front door open, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He didn't even call out, just dropped his bag and kicked his shoes halfway across the hallway.
Then it happened.
"DADA!!"
Sylvie squealed from the living room.
Her whole face lit up like sunrise. And before I could even blink, she ran.
Little uneven steps, arms outstretched, curls bouncing everywhere, her whole tiny body launching straight at him.
Leon froze, eyes wide, as she barreled into his legs, hugging him with all the force her little arms could muster.
He crouched down instantly, scooping her up like she was the only thing anchoring him to earth. His laugh cracked, loud and shaky, and for a moment, I saw something in his face I hadn't seen in years. Pure, unfiltered joy.
"Dada's home," he whispered against her hair.
Sylvie just giggled, patting his cheeks, chanting it over and over like it was her favorite word in the world. "Dada! Dada! Dada!"
And for once, Nyxen didn't have a single comment. Even Nica stayed quiet.
I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smiling despite myself. "Guess she missed you."
Leon kissed the top of her head, voice low and rough. "Guess I missed her more."
And just like that, in the middle of baby gates, foam padding, and endless AI-vs-human arguments, we had something real. Something soft.
A moment worth surviving all the chaos for.
---------
If anyone tells you planning a first birthday party is easy, they're lying.
Leon had taken an entire week off work, a week, just to prepare. He said it was for "organization." I said it was because he wanted an excuse to boss everyone around. He didn't deny it.
The house turned into ground zero for Party Armageddon.
"We need three hundred balloons," Leon announced like a general briefing his troops.
"Excessive," Nica deadpanned, arms folded. "One balloon per guest is statistically efficient."
"Efficient?" Leon scoffed, digging through a box of pastel decorations. "This is a party, not a military ration line!"
Meanwhile, Nyxen had already hijacked the situation, hovering around with a camera drone. "Day three of the great birthday prep, Leon's cracked under the pressure. He's currently arguing with a robot about balloon ethics. Smash that like button."
"Turn that thing off!" Leon barked, waving at the drone like a maniac.
Nyxen zoomed it closer instead. "Conflict drives engagement."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Can we maybe focus on, I don't know, Sylvie? The actual birthday girl?"
Sylvie, of course, was crawling under the table, chewing on a ribbon like it was gourmet cuisine.
Leon spotted her and lunged. "No! Not in your mouth-" He snatched the ribbon away and gave me that panicked dad look. "See? This is why I need everything perfect. She deserves perfect."
I softened, just a little. "She doesn't care if the balloons match the napkins, Leon. She's one."
"She'll know," he insisted.
"Incorrect," Nica interjected. "Infants retain minimal memory of early events. This effort is for-"
"Don't say it's for us," I warned.
Nica blinked. "…for archival footage."
Nyxen snorted, "Translation: you're all doing this for Instagram."
Leon ignored him, already rifling through Sylvie's party dress options. He held up a frilly lavender dress like it was the Holy Grail. "Look at this! Isn't it perfect?"
"She'll rip it off in five minutes," I muttered.
"Then we'll have backups!" He gestured to three more dresses laid out on the couch. "Plan A, B, C...covered."
"You bought four dresses?"
"Five," Nyxen corrected, panning the camera. "I helped pick one. It has sequins. Very sparkly."
I groaned.
And then there was catering.
"I already booked a caterer," Leon said proudly, shoving a menu into my hands. "Buffet style. Kid-friendly, but adults won't starve."
"How many guests did you book for?" I asked, scanning it.
"…fifty."
I blinked. "Leon. We don't know fifty people."
"Well, we invited the neighbors-"
"Correction," Nyxen chimed, still filming. "I invited the neighbors. Every household with children. Because community building drives positive PR."
Leon perked up. "See? It's good networking!"
"It's a baby's birthday, not a mayoral campaign," I snapped.
Nica leaned in, voice flat. "Estimating attendance is unreliable. Variables include last-minute cancellations, unpredictable weather, and fluctuating human interest in social obligations."
"Translation," I said, glaring at Leon. "We don't know if anyone's coming."
"Or," Nyxen added cheerfully, "everyone could show up and we'll be buried in toddlers."
Leon's face went pale. "…we need more chairs."
So the days turned into frantic lists: chairs, streamers, giveaways, party treats, decorations. Every trip to the store ended with twice as much as we needed.
"Why do we have twelve boxes of party hats?" I asked, staring at the mountain of cone hats in the living room.
Leon looked defensive. "They came in bulk."
"Only six children are confirmed coming."
"Then each kid gets two hats."
"Or one crown and one hat, for layered accessorizing," Nyxen suggested from behind the camera.
"Not helping," I hissed.
By the night before, the house was drowning in pastel chaos. Balloons were taped to every surface, streamers tangled like a war zone, and Sylvie had declared war on every stuffed animal centerpiece.
Leon sat in the middle of it all, holding a checklist like his life depended on it. "Okay. Party favors, done. Invitations, sent. Catering, confirmed. Backup cake, ordered. Emergency juice boxes, stocked."
"Emergency juice boxes?" I repeated.
"You never know," he muttered.
Sylvie toddled past, dragging a streamer across the floor like a victory flag.
Nyxen zoomed in on her with the drone, narrating dramatically. "And here's our guest of honor, blissfully unaware that her first birthday has cost approximately the GDP of a small country."
I laughed despite myself. Because it was true, this was chaos. Unnecessary, ridiculous chaos.
But looking at Leon, with his wild eyes and desperate checklist, and Sylvie, waving her streamer like she ruled the world… maybe it was the kind of chaos worth remembering.
------
The Birthday Party
The house was chaos. Absolute, colorful, balloon-infested chaos.
"Leon, those balloons are too low, kids are popping them!" I shouted over the noise.
"They're festive!" he shot back, already sweating in his dress shirt as he adjusted the banner.
"Festive? It's a war zone!" I pointed as two kids from next door stomped on a fallen balloon like it was their life's mission.
"Documenting history!" Nyxen announced loudly, camera hovering, zooming in on the destroyed balloon remains. "First birthday, balloon massacre included. Parents will love this."
"Stop calling it that!" I hissed.
Meanwhile, Nica stood by the buffet table like a sentinel, arms crossed. "Unauthorized minors attempting to double-dip in the fruit platter. Preventative action engaged."
"Hey, she snitched on me!" a boy whined as Nica confiscated his half-eaten skewer.
"She's a robot, she doesn't snitch, she enforces," David muttered, clutching a plate. "Remind me why you put her in charge of food security?"
"Because last time Aldrin tried to sneak cake early," I reminded him.
"Hey! That was reconnaissance!" Aldrin defended, holding up his soda like it was evidence.
Mr. Francoise was by the punch bowl, laughing so hard his glasses slid down his nose. "I haven't been to a children's party this… militarized. Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous!"
Leon darted past, arms full of goody bags. "Where's the box of the pink ones?!"
"In the kitchen, under the-" I didn't finish before Sylvie's squeal cut through the noise.
She stood, wobbly but determined, and then, baby run. Straight across the chaos.
"Dada!!" she screamed, barreling right into Leon's legs.
The whole room froze. Neighbors, coworkers, lab people, all turning.
Leon dropped the bags instantly, scooping her up like he'd just won the lottery. His face lit up. "Dada? Did you, did you hear that? She said dada!"
"She already did that days ago!" I said, hands on my hips, but I couldn't help smiling.
"Not like this. Not in public. With witnesses," Leon bragged, twirling her around as she laughed.
Nyxen's lens zoomed in. "Historic milestone: Father's ego inflated beyond recovery."
"Delete that footage," Leon barked.
"Negative. This belongs in the archives."
Then came the cake. Candles lit, everyone crowding, kids jumping and chanting off-key. I held Sylvie in my arms, steadying her tiny hands as Leon hovered close.
"Make a wish, little one," Leon whispered, helping her blow.
She blinked at the fire, then clapped her hands. "Mama!!"
I swear, I stopped breathing.
"She said-" I stuttered, voice cracking.
"She said mama!" Leon shouted like he was announcing to the heavens.
The crowd erupted. Clapping, cheering, some tearing up. Mr. Francoise dabbed his eyes with a napkin. "Magnifique."
"Leon, give me my child, she said mama!" I yanked her into a hug, burying my face against her giggles. "Oh my god, she finally said it."
"Correction," Nyxen narrated, hovering dangerously close. "First 'Dada' went to Leon. First 'Mama' went to Nyx. Both parental figures satisfied. Baby Sylvie: balance achieved."
"Nyxen," I growled through happy tears, "shut up."
Even Nica cracked the faintest smile, watching the scene like some kind of stone guardian. "Milestone secured. Mission successful."
Leon and I just stared at each other over Sylvie's head, her laughter bubbling between us, and for once the chaos didn't feel like chaos at all.
The sugar hit fast.
Five minutes after cake, the neighbor kids were ricocheting around my living room like pinballs. One was trying to climb the couch backwards, another was chasing a balloon that Nyxen kept floating just out of reach.
"This is cruel and unusual punishment!" the boy whined.
"Correction," Nyxen replied in his smug voice. "This is enrichment."
"Enrichment for who?" I shouted, ducking as a frosting-smeared toddler zoomed past me.
Leon was cornered by two of his coworkers, both snickering as he wiped his suspiciously red eyes.
"You cried, didn't you?" one of them teased.
"I didn't cry," Leon snapped.
"You cried," the other coworker echoed, pointing at him. "Dada-tears. Caught in 4K."
"I'll fire both of you."
"Not from your own kid's party, you won't," they shot back, laughing.
Meanwhile, David had a slice of cake in each hand, hiding behind the fridge like a criminal.
"I saw that!" Aldrin yelled. "You're hoarding cake!"
"I'm testing structural frosting integrity!" David shouted back through a mouthful.
Nica intercepted a neighbor kid who was attempting a stealth mission toward the gift table. "Halt. Unauthorized approach detected."
"But it's for Sylvie!" the kid whined.
"You are not Sylvie," Nica deadpanned, arms crossed.
"Man, you guys hired a bouncer for a one-year-old's birthday," another neighbor whispered to me, equal parts impressed and horrified.
"She wasn't hired," I sighed. "She just… exists like that."
In the middle of it all, Sylvie was queen of the chaos, smearing frosting on her face like war paint. She toddled between guests, hands sticky, offering cake crumbs to anyone who would take them.
"She's feeding people now," Mr. Francoise chuckled, happily accepting a half-squished chunk of icing. "Such generosity! Truly, a born leader."
"Or a tyrant," Aldrin muttered, ducking as Sylvie tried to shove a fistful of cake in his mouth.
Then Sylvie spotted Leon across the room.
"Dada!!" she shrieked again, bolting toward him on wobbly legs.
The crowd parted like she was royalty, Leon crouching down just in time to catch her. She laughed, face covered in frosting, smearing it across his shirt as she hugged him tight.
His coworkers howled with laughter. "That's your new uniform, boss. Cake stains."
"Shut up," Leon growled, but the grin he wore gave him away.
I walked over, cake plate in hand, and Sylvie reached for me too. "Mama!"
The sound melted me all over again.
Leon groaned dramatically. "Why does she sound cuter when she says mama?"
"Because she means it more," I teased, kissing Sylvie's sticky hair.
Nyxen zoomed in close, his lens whirring. "Documenting: parents now competing for baby's affection. Winner undecided. Stakes: immeasurable."
"Delete that," Leon snapped.
"Never."
For once, I didn't care. The noise, the sugar, the balloons, the chaos, it all blurred together into something warm. Something that felt like home.