Our house is quiet again.

The toys have been put away, the little shoes are no longer piled by the door, and somehow there isn’t a single request for another snack. For about two wonderful weeks, our home belonged to four extraordinary grandchildren—ages seven, six, five, and almost four. It was loud. It was messy. It was exhausting. And it was absolutely perfect.

When you have children this age together, every day feels like an adventure waiting to happen.

There were car washes, which became far more exciting because someone discovered that rolling the windows down during the giant blow-dryer phase made the experience unforgettable. (The grandparents actually suggested this.) The squeals and laughter echoing through the car made it worth every second as hair blew straight up and photos were taken!

We escaped the summer heat with movie outings, complete with popcorn that somehow ended up everywhere including in our mouths. There were afternoons racing down the Slip ‘N Slide, endless time on the bouncy house, and quiet moments curled up together reading stack after stack of books.

One of our favorite traditions returned: candlelight breakfasts. There’s something magical about pancakes, candles, and little faces glowing in the morning light. Ordinary breakfasts somehow become extraordinary when a few flickering candles are involved.

Dinner was an adventure too. The”Spaghetti Dump Dinner,” a tradition we wouldn’t miss, is where all the spaghetti and meatballs get piled in the middle of the table for everyone to share – no silverware or plates required. It’s messy, delicious, and guaranteed to create memories—and probably a few extra loads of laundry.

There were drag races down our street with Aunt T that were taken very seriously, and wrestling matches with Uncle Bryn that somehow always ended with everyone laughing. For Uncle Bryn’s birthday, the grandchildren decided he absolutely needed pickle cupcakes. Whether he wanted them or not was beside the point. Birthdays, apparently, are about surprises.

In an ambitious attempt to balance all the fun, we introduced a chore chart for the first time this year. Let’s just say the results were…mixed. Some days the enthusiasm was impressive. Other days, not so much. But learning responsibility is a journey, and the white board with chores listed still holds remarkable negotiating power.

Our days were filled with songs sung loudly and often, whether anyone knew all the words or not. We celebrated a milestone when the very first wiggly tooth made its appearance, prompting endless mirror checks, careful tongue wiggles, and excited conversations about the Tooth Fairy’s upcoming visit.

The days seemed long while we were living them. Bedtimes took forever. Towels multiplied. Shoes disappeared. Someone was always hungry, someone was always laughing, and someone was always asking, “Are we almost there?”

But now, looking back, the two weeks feel like they passed in the blink of an eye.

One day our grandchildren will be too old for Slip ‘N Slides, candlelight breakfasts, wrestling matches, daily popsicles, drag races and pickle cupcakes. They’ll have summer jobs, driver’s licenses, and lives that won’t allow for two uninterrupted weeks at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

That’s why these moments matter so much.

The dishes can wait. The laundry eventually gets folded. The fingerprints come off the windows.

But these summers? These are the days that become family stories. The stories they’ll tell someday will begin with, “Remember when…”

I’ll remember the joy on their faces, the sticky hugs after a Slip ‘N Slide afternoon, the candlelight dancing at breakfast, and four little voices singing at the top of their lungs. Childhood is made of ordinary days that somehow become extraordinary. They may be little now, but the memories we made together will last a lifetime. 

My own children, and now our grandchildren, are one of the greatest reasons we write children’s stories. Watching them all grow, learn, imagine, and discover the world has been one of life’s greatest joys—one I wouldn’t miss for anything. They inspire the adventures, the characters, and the lessons woven into every story. They have always been my muse, reminding me that the simplest moments often become the most magical memories. 

As I return to my life each time, I realize the ordinary is extraordinary, and it’s all stitched together by the tiny moments we share together.

Family Ink: The Mother and Son Storytelling Team