I still remember the morning my youngest raced out the door with mismatched sneakers, backpack slung over one shoulder, and a grin that made the whole block feel brighter. As a mom in my forties with two kids between eight and twelve, our mornings are a choreography of lunches, lost socks, and neighborly waves while the paperboy passes by. Evenings mean backyard homework sessions under the old maple and shared ice cream on the front steps while the kids trade stories with the neighbor’s littlest. Those small routines made me notice how much our home’s outside shapes our days —…
