As a dad of three whirlwind boys—an imaginative 8, a snack-obsessed 6, and a chatterbox 5—I slapped a “No People” sign on my door hoping for a minute of quiet… and got twenty glorious seconds. My 8-year-old crept in with a cardboard knight’s helmet, the 6-year-old demanded “emergency juice,” and the 5-year-old serenaded me with “Baby Shark” as the dog barreled through like a linebacker. The shortest, funniest peace treaty ever.