So, picture this: it’s one of those chaotic afternoons where everything feels like it’s balancing on the edge. I’d promised myself it’d be a “quick trip” to Target, but of course, my daughter, Mira, had other plans. She’s two and a half, wild blonde curls everywhere, and a serious obsession with the dollar section.

We were halfway through checkout—her clutching a sparkly blue toy she refused to let go of—when I realized my card kept declining. My stomach dropped. I knew why. Rent had cleared yesterday, and the paycheck was late. The cashier looked apologetic, but people behind us were starting to shift impatiently. Mira didn’t understand, obviously. She was busy showing me how the toy “talked.”