Labor Day at Sunset Beach. We took over a whole section—tents, towels, families drifting from group to group, parents trading off so everyone actually got a break.
Beach day done right: grilled hot dogs, kids in the water, snacks and drinks moving between towel clusters. Parents went on walks, had real conversations, watched waves while someone else had their kids. Then switched. That's just how we move together—nobody keeping score, everyone lighter because of it.
We celebrated a birthday with cake his family brought. K-Pop Demon Hunters on the movie screen and the kids absolutely lost it—dancing, singing, completely absorbed. Glow-in-the-dark face paint came out—butterflies, superheroes, animals—glowing in the dark while they ran around shrieking with joy.
The fire pit that night: huge flames, embers floating up toward the stars. Dark enough to really see them. Our kids looking up, mesmerized, quiet for once. Grilled hot dogs, glow paint, K-Pop, and parents who actually rested because we lift each other up—nobody solos.
