If you had told the childless me that the best weekend is when your contact lets you stay for both lunch and dinner, and goes the extra mile by helping to shower your two kids, I would have rolled my eyes and scoffed at having such mundane expectations of life. But now, as I type this while waiting for dinner to be served while watching my daughter run amok in the living room, I am savouring the euphoria that courses through my veins. Words cannot describe my joy, an exclusive guest that descends upon me like a mirage. I am grateful.