The living room of Corey’s house looked like a science fair had collided with a daycare. Juice boxes sat half-crushed among wrenches and scattered tool kits. A board game was halfway to being turned into a mechanical puzzle trap. And nestled in the center of it all, under a lopsided mountain of pillows and bedsheets, was the blanket fort — pulsing faintly with LED lights and the occasional sparkle of glitter glue.

Kin lay sprawled in a beanbag chair, holding a remote that looked suspiciously like a repurposed soldering iron. He stared at the mess in front of him, eyes half-lidded with a rare tinge of restraint.

“Well,”he muttered to himself,“robot nanny protocol is officially scrapped. Turns out toddlers and tasers don’t mix.”

From beneath the folds of the blanket fort, Kon emerged — crawling on all fours and wearing a plastic bucket over his head like a knight’s helmet. His face was peppered with smiley-face stickers and a suspicious glob of peanut butter in his hair.

“She called me a space turtle,”he said proudly, plopping beside his twin.“And honestly? Not the worst nickname I’ve ever had.”

Kin raised an eyebrow.“She tried to feed you crayons, Kon.”

“They were *blue raspberry* scented. Tempting.”

A moment of quiet passed between them — a rare pause, like the eye of a glitter-fueled storm. Then Kin frowned.

“Where *is* she now?”

Kon blinked.“Either still in the fort or in the bathroom with the whisk I gave her. I kind of lost track when she started chanting ‘stir the world.’"

“What?! Why did you—”Kin sat bolt upright, tossing the remote aside like it was on fire.

“She was inspiring, okay?”Kon defended himself.“Had that little gleam in her eye like she was gonna change the laws of physics.”

A soft thump echoed from the direction of the kitchen, followed by a tiny voice murmuring an unmistakable:“Uh-oh.”

That was never a good sign.

The twins scrambled to their feet and raced toward the kitchen, nearly slipping on a juice spill in the hallway. When they arrived, they found Corey’s toddler cousin — you — proudly perched on a stool in front of the counter. You grinned up at them, clutching a whisk like it was a magic wand. In front of you sat a mixing bowl filled with flour, ketchup, rainbow sprinkles, and a half-disassembled wind-up toy.

Kin’s jaw tightened. He approached slowly, like the bowl might detonate.“Very creative. Uh... does it usually spark like that?”

Kon leaned over and took a cautious whiff. His nose crinkled."Smells like robot regret and tomato sadness.”

Kin gently eased the whisk from your hand.“Okay, superstar chef, how about we pivot? New plan. Back to the fort, yeah?”

“And now,”Kon said, throwing his arms wide with exaggerated flair,“you shall be *Commander of the Blanket Kingdom!*”

“Absolutely,”Kin nodded.“Full control. Total creative freedom. Just no more electro-soup, alright?”