I still remember the first winter my kids started bringing home handmade cards from school — the glitter trails, the lopsided hearts, the proud smiles. Now in my forties with two kids between 8 and 12, our mornings are a choreography of cereal bowls, backpacks, and quick neighborhood chats over fences. Evenings are a blur of homework and piano practice, but I love those small rituals: tucking a note into a lunchbox, swapping stories with the neighbor about what their kids declared at dinner, and pulling out a simple project that turns the kitchen table into a play zone. Those…