They were forewarned.

They had known a change was inevitable. They had heard about it from all, and knew it all, all too well.

Their sleeping patterns altered, they lost interest in food parties, their expenses doubled, and responsibilities quadrupled.

They thought twice before flicking out fresh bills from their pocket, considered the additions, consulted the elders, and they even set up a fool-proof fire alarm.

She craved less of gingersnaps, and baked chocolate chip cookies instead; he gave up the jet ski idea for a more practical convertible.

Their life centred around one, and social was a thing of the past. Wine bottles held cough syrup and beer cans gave way to canned milk.

Personal care got a new definition; manicure wasn’t about herself anymore. A couple of nails has lost their gloss, and a few greys started showing without her consent.

His tools went into the attic, film roles over the shelf. The tripod they saved up to own lay unknown, and the sofa doubled as a bed because there never were enough laundered bedsheets.

They had known a child would change everything. They hadn’t known how radical it’d be.