One afternoon, I found the kids sprawled on the living room floor, crayons and pencils scattered around as they drew their own “map.” They looked up when they saw me, grinning with excitement.
“Look, Mom!
We have our own house map!” my son shouted, holding up their masterpiece. It was labeled with their own hideouts — Secret Lair in the closet, Dragon’s Lair in the basement.
Tom came over, his eyes shining as he looked at their creation. He knelt beside them, tracing the lines with a soft smile, as if they’d unknowingly given him back another small piece of what he’d lost.
“Looks like you’re carrying on the tradition,” he said, his voice full of warmth.
Our son looked up at him, his eyes bright.
“Yeah, Dad. It’s our plan… just like yours.”
