I'm mostly grateful for the craziness of my days.

Ever since I became a parent and especially after becoming a parent of two, my days have become a blur. My morning begins around 6:45 AM to the clanging of a stainless steel water bottle clattering against the walls and doors as my son commutes from his bedroom to mine. The entire household is awake now and organized chaos ensues. Danielle and I throw together bento lunches for the kids and get them dressed. We try to be patient with our 3 year old who obliges by putting on her top and jacket but insists on being garment-free from the waist down. Meanwhile we keep a close eye on the 6 year old lest he wander away from his breakfast to start a jigsaw puzzle from which it would be impossible to pull him away. All the while, Danielle and I can only think of taking a sip of the now room-temperature coffee sitting on the countertop.

The sound of the garage door closing provides a moment of relief. I can finally sit down in front of my tasks.org file to take stock of the day ahead. I give a fleeting thought to Danielle. I hope she makes it to work on time after dropping off the kids at school.

With a sense of accomplishment, I mark a task complete with Ctrl-c Ctrl-t but get startled by a noise—It is the garage door again. Darn it, where did the day go? I'm still in my PJs. I rush downstairs to greet the rustle of footsteps coming my way. "How was your day!?" I ask. My son rushes past, oblivious to my question and thankfully not noticing my unchanged attire, and heads straight to play Rush Hour. My daughter rushes toward me head first like a ram going into battle. "OUT-STANDING, OUT-SITTING AND OUT-NAPPING.. CAN YOU SPIN ME AROUND?", is her usual response at 90 dB. Porter Danielle, lugging the kids' backpacks, snack containers, jackets and her handbag, walks by grumbling about the kids not bothering to carry up any of their belongings. "What's for dinner?" she asks. I take a deep breath and desperately hope for the next three hours pass as quickly as possible.

We prepare dinner, I sit down with my son to do his homework, and Danielle entertains our daughter while trying to coax her into helping set the dinner table. My anxiety climbs at the dinner table as I watch a mountain of crumbs form around my son. I've solved many problems in my professional engineering life but getting my son to eat above his plate remains insurmountable. With dinner done, Danielle announces bath time. The kids set off on The Great Trek—the 14 steps between the dinner table and their bathroom—which feels like the longest hike ever, where even a stray piece of lint in the carpet deserves careful exploration. While the journey to the bathtub is long, the bath itself lasts a mere 5 seconds as the kids compete to be the first to finish. A trail of destruction remains—towels strewn, an ouchie from the scuffle, a precariously slippery floor from the bath water and who-knows-what-else.

The kids get dressed, brush their teeth, and we muster the last of our energy engaging them in a chase as they try, as they do every night, to evade our lotion-laden fingers. With that battle out of the way, the kids pick up some books and nestle in their beds. Danielle follows our daughter and I, our son. My son cozies up next to me on the bed, his legs tucked under his blankets, my arm around him. I open the first book.

This. This is the magical moment.

Everything settles into place. The bustle of the day fizzles out. My body and mind suddenly feel warm and relaxed. Previously narrowly focused, his ears are suddenly fully receptive to the world that the book is about to unveil. We take turns reading aloud. He smiles when I dramatize my reading. He tries to do the same when he reads. I feel so connected to him. I don't want the day to end.

Like many parents, Danielle and I cherish our evening reading time with the kids. We also use this time to introduce them to new ideas. Motivated by my own entrepreneurial journey and inspired by the early-life stories of Ingvar Kamprad and Warren Buffett told on the excellent Acquired podcast, I felt I should introduce them to the world of entrepreneurship. I created Ten Dollar Adventure to offer them—and young readers everywhere—a fun and engaging way to learn about creative problem solving and the value of money .

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