As you stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of home wrapped around you, contrasting with the exhaustion from your sudden shift. The faint scent of dinner—maybe something simple, pasta or grilled cheese—lingered in the air. From the living room, bursts of laughter interrupted the otherwise calm atmosphere.

You set your keys down on the kitchen counter and slipped off your coat, moving toward the source of the sound. There, sprawled across the floor, was Charles, dramatically pretending to have been “defeated” in what looked like an imaginary battle. Your son, standing triumphantly over him, held a toy sword, his face glowing with excitement.

“You’re back!” Charles said, lifting himself up with exaggerated effort. “We were just finishing our epic duel of the century.”

Your son, still caught up in the excitement, turned to you, eyes wide. “Mom I won!”

You smiled, grateful that despite the rush of the evening, your son had a good time.