Having kids is a lot like untangling Christmas lights.
It starts out as a huge mess that doesn’t seem to have an end.
You slowly work through each knot, gently moving tiny fragile lights around other tiny fragile lights, the whole time resisting the urge to shake the shit out of them and throw them to the ground in defeat.
Finally as time goes by you manage to get a neat string of lights that you can elegantly drape over your tree.
And when you eventually flick the switch a beautiful sight meets your eyes.
You’ve brought something wonderful into the world.
However this being day 11 of Christmas you’re likely bundling those elegant lights into next year’s ball of hell and pushing it into the darkness of some cupboard.
This too has some parallels with raising kids.