First, let’s just talk about the children. Everyone is aware that Nick Cannon is a father to numerous children. He has fathered 12 children with six women, five of whom are under a year old.

He never intended for this to happen. He grew up in a large family and always thought he would build something similar for himself, but he is not attempting to form a group or become the head of a cult. He claims that his issue is that he’s a hopeless romantic, enjoying the butterflies, the first kiss, and the boost to his ego. And he wants another hit as soon as the dopamine spike wears off.

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He adds that he is a people-pleaser. So he obliged when several of his partners expressed concern about their biological clocks during the pandemic. He remarks, “A lot of them are in the same age group.” And all I wanted to do was grant their wishes. My mantra was, “I can handle it.”

That’s how he got a neon-lit room with tumbling mats, a ball pit, and toy instruments turned into a nursery in his office building. Onyx, his 6-month-old daughter, is the sole youngster utilizing the area at the moment. On a Monday at 6 p.m., Cannon is running late. After dropping his 6-year-old son Golden off at Mandarin class, he has not yet returned to his Burbank offices. After noticing that I’m waiting, Onyx’s nanny, who is alone in the play area, invites me to join them by taking off my shoes. As we watch, the baby bounces in her jumper and coos at the buttons or rattle shakes.

Cannon shows in at 6:45 p.m., gives Onyx a hug, and shows me into his office. This is the soberest part of Ncredible Productions, with staff having access to a candy bar, game room, and pingpong table, and the walls covered in scrawls on the chalkboards. Huge black-and-white pictures of Cannon participating in BLM protests are displayed over the desk in his private home. The name of his 5-month-old son, Zen, who passed away from brain cancer last year, is spelled out in steel letters and rests on a ledge.