On your mark.
We had selected our habitat. We chose our animal. And we used those unique features to out maneuver our competitors.
Peregrine falcon wings.
Me holding my daughter, my mom, my dad and my son racing towards the end of the lawn.
The five of us went barreling towards the finish line.
High fives, huge tackles and a race back to the imaginary starting block.
Dusk was falling. The neighborhood was quiet. And we were rowdy.
It felt like magic. If I could have stopped time, I would have paused it right there for a bit. Just to bottle up the moment of unbridled silliness.
I hope these are the memories that stick to the core. When someone asks my children what their childhood was like, I hope that they remember most the fun times. That the times when routines were hard, days seemed tough and skies weren’t quite so sunny fade into the background and all that is left is the magic.
Because the magic is there. It’s in the sidewalk chalk, in the bubbles and in the backyard foot races. It is in bedtime stories and bubble bath beards. It’s in superhero pajamas and hot chocolate.
And when my kids describe their young years, I hope they remember the silly. Because that is the good stuff.