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It's 2:43 AM. I'm holding my iPhone between my teeth like a tactical flashlight because I need both hands to manage a diaper blowout of catastrophic proportions. I take one step backward, my heel finds a rogue wooden block, and...

Listen, it was three in the morning in my Chicago apartment and the walls were pulsing with neon green and blue nebulas. I was holding a screaming seven-month-old while a plastic dome on the dresser whirred loudly, projecting a highly...