Parenting 101: A Crisis In The Making

For a woman who ran a billion-dollar empire, handled high-stakes negotiations daily and had personally intimidated multiple grown men into submission—

Lingling Kwong was not prepared for this.

Not at all.

Because parenting?

Was a completely different battlefield.

And as she sat on the couch, flipping through her fourth parenting book of the night, she realized something horrifying—

She had no idea what she was doing.

"Orm."

Orm, who had been comfortably lounging on the couch, casually snacking while watching TV, barely looked up.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

Lingling, holding her thick parenting book like it had personally betrayed her, exhaled sharply.

"What if we're terrible parents?"

Orm blinked.

"Uh. What?"

Lingling snapped the book shut dramatically.

"What if we mess up?" she continued, her voice sharp, serious, the same tone she used when discussing corporate takeovers. "What if we do something wrong? What if they resent us? What if we accidentally raise them to be... rebels?"

Orm stared at her.

"Babe, they're still in my stomach."

"Exactly!" Lingling threw her hands up. "We are running out of time to be ready!"

Orm, trying very, very hard not to laugh, took another bite of her snack.

"Okay, let's start with this: what exactly did the book say to make you freak out?"

Lingling flipped through the pages dramatically, her eyes scanning the text as if it contained ancient wisdom.

"Do you know how crucial the first five years of a child's life are?" she demanded. "Their brains are developing at a rapid pace, and every single interaction we have with them could shape their future!"

"Mhm." Orm nodded, munching. "Go on."

"We have to be mindful of our tone, our words, our actions. We need to balance discipline and nurture. We have to introduce them to languages early, make sure they're getting enough stimulation for cognitive development, and—"

Orm cut her off.

"Babe."

"What?"

"You sound like you're preparing for a company merger, not raising children."

Lingling scowled.

"Because both require strategy and long-term planning!"

Orm snorted.

"I love that you're treating our babies like future executives."

Lingling pointed seriously at her.

"They need structure, Orm!"

Orm rolled her eyes.

"They need love, Ling. We're gonna figure it out as we go."

Lingling huffed, unsatisfied.

"We should start reading to them now. Experts say babies can recognize voices in the womb."

"Okay, go ahead."

Without hesitation, Lingling grabbed the nearest book off the table, cleared her throat and began reading.

Her voice was calm, focused, serious.

Orm, at first, nodded along, fully supportive.

But then—

Something felt off.

She frowned, listening more closely.

Her eyes widened.

"Babe."

Lingling kept reading, flipping a page.

"—One must always assess the leverage of all parties involved before initiating negotiations, as the power balance—"

"BABE."

Lingling paused, glancing up.

"What?"

Orm stared at her.

"Are you seriously reading our unborn children a business strategy book?"

Lingling looked at the book in her hands.

Then back at Orm.

"Yes. 'The Art of Negotiation.' It's important for them to learn these skills early."

Orm looked into the camera.

Like she was in The Office.

Lingling tilted her head.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

Orm deadpanned.

"How about a bedtime story?"

Lingling paused, considering.

Then—

"Oh. I suppose that could also work."

It was late.

Orm was already half-asleep, curled up comfortably against her pillow, her body relaxed and mind drifting into much-needed rest.

Lingling, however?

Was not relaxed.

Was not even close to resting.

Instead, she lay flat on her back, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling like it had the answers to the universe.

And she was thinking.

Overthinking.

Deep in the trenches of a mental spiral.

"Babe."

Orm grunted sleepily.

"We should decide on a parenting style."

Orm made a noise that sounded like a mix between a groan and an existential crisis.

She didn't even bother opening her eyes.

"Can't we just... I don't know, parent?"

"No, we need a strategy."

At this, Orm finally cracked one eye open, squinting.

"Babe. It's literally almost midnight."

Lingling ignored this irrelevant fact.

"There are different approaches to parenting, and we need to agree on one."

Orm let out a dramatic sigh, fully knowing there was no escape.

"Okay. What are the options?"

Lingling sat up, flipping through her mental database like she was preparing for a business pitch.

"There's authoritative, gentle parenting, free-range, attachment—"

Orm's other eye finally opened.

"Babe." she said, slowly. "Are we raising babies or writing a research paper?"

Lingling rolled onto her side to face her, eyes intense.

"This is serious, Orm."

"Okay, okay." Orm rubbed her eyes, sitting up slightly. "Let's break it down. What kind of parent do you think you'll be?"

Without a moment of hesitation, Lingling answered immediately.

"Disciplined. Structured. Focused. They will have routines, clear expectations and a strong sense of responsibility."

Orm blinked.

"Babe. We're having babies. Not training Olympic athletes."

Lingling scowled.

"Discipline is important!"

"Yeah, but so is letting them be kids!"

Orm gestured wildly.

"They're going to be tiny little chaos gremlins, Ling! They're going to want to run around, make messes, eat questionable things and scream just because they like the sound of their own voices!"

Lingling looked horrified.

"That sounds... inefficient."

"That sounds like children."

Lingling massaged her temples, clearly displeased.

"So what kind of parent do you think you'll be, then?"

Orm grinned, unrepentant.

"The fun one."

Lingling stared.

Just stared.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes." Orm smirked, stretching like a satisfied cat. "I'm gonna be the one that sneaks them extra dessert, lets them stay up late on weekends, and takes them on spontaneous adventures."

Lingling groaned.

"So I'm going to be the responsible one."

"Obviously."

"I'm going to be the one enforcing rules while you let them run wild."

"Sounds about right."

"I hate this already."

Orm laughed, flopping back onto her pillow.

"You'll love it. Just wait."

The next day, in a moment of pure, unfiltered overconfidence, Lingling and Orm made the grave mistake of discussing their parenting plans with their families.

It went downhill immediately.

Lingling's mother? Absolutely thrilled.

Orm's mother? Even more thrilled.

Their fathers? Sitting back, watching the impending disaster unfold with pure amusement.

They were not ready.

It started off innocently enough.

Lingling's mother smiled sweetly over tea.

"So, have you decided how you'll parent?"

Before Lingling could even breathe, Orm grinned and answered immediately.

"Oh yeah, I'll be the fun mom, Lingling will be the strict mom."

Lingling whipped her head around so fast it was a miracle she didn't sprain something.

"Excuse me?"

But before she could protest, her mother simply nodded.

Like it was obvious.

"Yes, that sounds accurate."

Lingling's jaw dropped.

Her father chuckled, sipping his tea.

"Why does everyone agree so easily?!"

Her mother gave her a knowing look.

"Darling. You came out of the womb judging the doctor for their efficiency. You made a structured daily schedule at age six. You scolded your kindergarten classmates for not coloring inside the lines."

Orm snorted into her drink.

Lingling's father patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"We love you, sweetheart, but this isn't exactly a shocking revelation."

Meanwhile, Orm's mother was already delighting in the mess.

"We just want to know how much chaos we'll be dealing with," she said, smiling way too smugly.

Orm, grinning like an absolute menace, didn't hesitate.

"Oh, tons."

Lingling narrowed her eyes.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Orm said, leaning back smugly, "I plan on making things fun for them. Meanwhile, you want them to file taxes by age five."

Lingling gasped.

"That is not true!"

A pause.

Then, as if realizing in real-time how much of a lie that was—

"...Maybe six."

Silence.

Then—

The entire family BURST into laughter.

Orm was wheezing, clapping her hands.

Lingling's mother had actual tears in her eyes.

Orm's father nearly choked on his tea.

"MY GRANDCHILDREN ARE GOING TO BE TAX FILING PRODIGIES," Orm's mother cackled.

"They will NOT," Lingling grumbled.

Orm wiped away fake tears.

"It's okay, babe. I'll make sure they have a little fun between tax seasons."

Lingling sighed deeply, staring at her tea like it could save her from this conversation.

Orm simply grinned, throwing an arm around her.

"Face it, babe. You've already lost."

That night, after a long day of existential parenting crises, unexpected betrayals and the realization that she had already lost control of her household before the babies were even born—

Lingling stared at the ceiling.

Flat on her back. Unmoving.

Eyes wide open.

Processing.

Her brain refusing to shut down.

Beside her, Orm—who had long since accepted that parenting was just going to be one big, chaotic adventure—turned to look at her wife, already smirking.

"Still thinking about parenting?" she asked, clearly amused.

Lingling exhaled.

"Yes."

Orm grinned, eyes filled with nothing but fondness and a little bit of smugness.

"Babe. You're going to be a great mom."

Lingling finally tore her gaze away from the ceiling to look at Orm properly.

Her face softened.

"You really think so?"

Orm didn't even hesitate.

"Of course."

And then—

With the ease of someone who had long since mastered the art of making Lingling Kwong melt—

Orm reached out, gently cupping Lingling's face, thumb brushing softly against her cheek.

"You love so hard, Ling. Our babies are already the luckiest kids in the world."

Lingling exhaled.

Something in her stress-filled chest loosened.

The worries, the overthinking, the endless spiraling—they all melted away in an instant.

She let out a small sigh.

"I just want them to have the best life."

Orm leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Soft. Reassuring. Unshakably steady.

"And they will," she murmured against her skin. "Because they have you."

Lingling melted.

Again.

Like always.

She reached out, wrapping an arm around Orm's waist, pulling her closer as she let herself breathe.

"I guess I don't need to plan everything."

Orm's grin widened.

"Finally."

Lingling closed her eyes.

There was peace.

There was warmth.

And then—

"...But we ARE doing early language exposure."

Orm's eyes snapped open.

"Babe."

"It's crucial for cognitive development."

"BABE."

"Research shows—"

"LINGLING, GO TO SLEEP."

And just like that—

Parenting 101 was already a mess.

But at least they were in it together.