Puzzles were never Kei’s thing. He couldn’t match shapes, didn’t care, and I may have mildly traumatized him with my neurotypical puzzle snobbery. But years later, something clicked—literally. Now he builds the border, makes the rules, and taps each piece into place like a king claiming his throne. I do the work. He gets the glory. It’s fine. I’m fine.

Mornings start with a naked game of “Catch the Capsule,” evenings end with toothpaste interrogations, and somewhere in between, I’m just trying not to lose my mind. ADHD parenting isn’t for the faint of heart — but with humor, meds, and a little something called Strike Force, we survive one meltdown at a time.