I still remember the slow Saturdays when juice cups ringed the coffee table, backpacks by the door and the neighbor’s Labrador bubbling past our fence like clockwork. My two kids, eight and twelve, have a rhythm of their own now—homework at the kitchen island, impromptu fort nights, and a chorus of the same three songs during art time. Those little routines make our house feel like a warm, lived-in scrapbook, and I love weaving small moments into the décor. Somewhere between dropping off school lunches and coaxing the dog down from the couch, I started turning spare paper, ribbon, and…