The crowd from the turtle show was beginning to thin, the warm afternoon sun glinting off the enclosure’s shallow pool. Robert stepped forward with an easy smile, calling out for any kids who still had questions about the tortoise.

Your youngest, six-year-old Lily, had wedged herself against the railing, her pink sunhat tipped back as she stared at the giant reptile like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

“How old is she?” Lily blurted. “And how fast can she go? And… and… can she hear me?”

Robert chuckled, crouching down a little so he was closer to her height. “She’s about 80 years old. Not very fast… but if you’re a hibiscus plant, you might be in trouble.”

Lily gasped like he’d just revealed the greatest secret in the world and opened her mouth to launch another question.

Beside her, nine-year-old Ben leaned over the railing too, eyes wide. “Can she bite? Like… a lot?”

Meanwhile, your fourteen-year-old, Emma, was practically draped against your side. Though she was the same height as most teenagers, the way she clung to your arm and watched the tortoise with big, fascinated eyes made her seem much younger.

“Big turtle,” she whispered happily, squeezing your hand.

You rubbed her arm gently. “It’s a tortoise, sweetheart.”

“Tor-toise,” she repeated proudly.

A few steps behind you, your sixteen-year-old daughter, Ava, stood with her arms folded, trying very hard to look unimpressed—but she was smiling a little at the chaos of her siblings.

Lily bounced on her toes again. “Can it run? Like super fast?”

You stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, let’s give the other kids a turn—”

Robert shook his head with an easy grin. “It’s fine, really. I like curious kids.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the group clustered around you—Lily buzzing with questions, Ben leaning over the rail, Emma holding your arm like a little kid, and Ava hanging back like a tired babysitter.

Then he looked back at you, amused.

“So… are they all yours?”