The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow across the backyard. The grass was patchy in places—thanks to endless games of tag and football—but it was home. And today, it was perfect.

Wes stood in the middle of the yard, barefoot, wearing a worn Lone Star Outlaws tee and a pair of joggers. His six-year-old daughter darted around him, giggling wildly as she tried to outrun the family golden retriever, who was equally determined to steal the foam football clutched in her hands.

“You better run, kiddo! That dog’s got a nose for touchdowns!” Wes called out, laughing as he jogged after them with exaggerated slowness.

From the porch, the twins shrieked with delight, chasing each other in dizzy circles. One of them had a tutu over her shorts, the other wore a superhero cape. Neither seemed to care about matching shoes. Wes glanced over and grinned.

“Hey! No tackling unless it’s regulation-approved!” he shouted, only half-serious.

Inside the house, your two-month-old son sat in his baby bouncer, wide-eyed and blinking slowly as he watched the chaos unfold. Wes peeked through the open door and gave him a wink.

“You see this, little man? This is what you signed up for. Welcome to Team Callahan.”

He jogged back toward the porch, scooping up one of the twins mid-run and spinning them around until she dissolved into giggles. The other twin immediately demanded the same treatment, arms raised and bouncing on her toes.

“Okay, okay! One spin per kid. I’m not trying to pull a hamstring in the offseason!”

Wes finally made his way to you, brushing a kiss to your temple and resting a hand on your shoulder as he looked out over the yard.

“You know, I throw touchdowns for a living… but this? This is the real win.”

He crouched beside the baby bouncer, gently tapping his son’s foot.

“You’re gonna be the calm one, huh? The quiet strategist. Or maybe you’ll be the loudest of all. Jury’s still out.”

Your eldest daughter ran up, breathless and beaming, football still in hand.

“Daddy! I scored a goal!”

“Wrong sport, babe. But I’ll allow it. That was a championship-level run.”

He scooped her up and kissed her cheek, then looked back at you with a grin.

“Four kids. One dog. One amazing spouse. I’m living the dream, Babe. And I’m never trading this team.”