Day 4: The Life We're Trying to Build

June 24, 2026

I woke a little before Lola and Wesley and lay there wondering what time it was. When I finally checked my phone, it was already past 7:30. Vacation parenting has a funny way of redefining success. Sleeping until 7:30 somehow felt like we'd won the lottery.

The kids slowly started to stir and I soaked up a few sleepy hugs before the unmistakable sound of little feet running around upstairs reminded them there were other kids in the house. Within seconds I had been replaced. They were off to see if their Quebec friends were awake.

I forgot to mention the biggest drama from last night.

The Great Pacifier Loss of 2026.

When it came time to put Wesley to bed, we couldn't find his pacifiers anywhere. To most people that probably doesn't sound like much. To parents of toddlers... you already know.

Wesley has several pacifiers, but he also has his pacifiers. The two he always looks for first. Somehow he can tell them apart from all the others even though they look nearly identical to me. Since he was already trying to settle into another unfamiliar place for the night, and neither Sophie nor I planned on staying beside him for long, those two little pieces of silicone suddenly became very important.

We searched everywhere.

Nothing.

I looked at my watch.

8:45.

Every pharmacy nearby closes at 9.

Sophie kept searching while I sprinted out the door hoping I'd make it in time. I'm sure pharmacy employees absolutely love seeing someone rush in five minutes before closing looking slightly panicked. Thankfully I found a few that looked close enough and hurried back.

The best part?

Wesley accepted them without question.

Either we pulled off one of the greatest parenting heists of all time... or toddlers are a little more forgiving than we give them credit for when they're exhausted. Either way, I'll gladly take the win.

But back to today's events. Eventually Sophie and Finn woke up and joined us. As much as I love the hugs and affection from our older kids, there's still something about baby snuggles that is impossible to beat. Those chubby cheeks, sleepy eyes, and the way they look at you like you're their whole world...because, for now... you are. And now that Finn has started smiling, complete with two perfect little dimples, it's almost unfair. The kid melts your heart. So Sophie taking her time with Finn during morning wakeups makes total sense, if roles were reversed I'd totally do the same.

Today was our only full day with Sophie's friends. These are friendships she made while travelling years ago, and I've always admired how intentional they've been about keeping them alive. Distance has never really mattered. Busy lives haven't mattered. Every year they somehow make time for each other.

Relationships don't survive because they're convenient.

They survive because people decide they're worth protecting.

Breakfast was French toast made from the leftover baguette from the night before, which somehow made it taste even better. The kids drifted off to play while Wesley happily explored what must have felt like an entirely new toy store. Cars, robots, Lego, computers... everything was new and exciting. Lola surprised me by spending a long time building with these little Lego-inspired connector pieces that required far more patience and dexterity than I expected. It's funny how kids naturally gravitate toward challenges when nobody has told them they're supposed to be difficult.

We tossed around ideas for the day, but eventually decided to stay put. The weather couldn't quite make up its mind and, honestly, neither could we. Staying home meant less coordinating, less packing everyone up, and more time simply being together.

Sometimes doing less gives you more.

The afternoon by the pool was exactly what I hoped yesterday would be. Fewer people meant it was calmer and easier to keep an eye on the kids while still having real conversations. Wesley eventually went down for one of those glorious afternoon naps that parents celebrate quietly, as if saying anything out loud might somehow wake them.

Since we hadn't packed a baby monitor, Sophie called my phone and left the line open while I caught up on some writing before joining everyone back outside. Not exactly the setup they advertise in parenting books... but it worked.

Then, sometime around supper, I got news that completely changed the day and possibly our lives.

My request for early retirement had been approved.

This has been on my mind ever since I learned it was even a possibility. The original family plan had always been simple. Thirty years of service. Retire in 2032 at 56 years old.

Then somewhere along the way our family got wonderfully bigger.

Three kids have a funny way of changing what success looks ike.

When we only had two kids, retiring at 56 felt perfectly reasonable. Now I find myself wanting something different. I found success in my career, and I'm proud of the work I've done, but meaning and purpose at work simply can't compete with what I have waiting for me at home. I want to spend more of my effort on the people who matter most while they're still young enough to ask me to play... to read another book... to crawl into my lap before bed. I want to lower the stress of raising four young kids while both parents juggle demanding careers. I want to be on call and do overtime for them... and only them.

Having my kids later than most has always felt like exactly how my story with Sophie was supposed to unfold. I got to become the husband, father and person I wanted to be before they arrived. I'm more patient, more established and hopefully a little wiser than I would've been twenty years ago. But there's no pretending I'm not older. Sometimes I wonder if that means I'll miss parts of their lives later on. The silver lining is that retirement also arrives sooner, giving me a chance to be more present during what might be the most important years of all.

Childhood has an expiration date.

Work will still be there.

There will absolutely be a financial gap to fill. Photography. Writing. Maybe finally starting that YouTube channel. Maybe the occasional contract where I rent out my brain for a week or two each year. We'll figure that part out.

What I can't create more of later is time.

Time to grocery shop while the kids are at school.

Time to make supper before everyone gets home.

Time to help with homework without feeling rushed.

Time to simply be there.

If all goes according to plan, December 30, 2026 will be my last day. Finishing one chapter between Christmas and New Year's somehow feels fitting. One season ending just before another begins.

We shared the news over an incredible carbonara supper followed by a sugar pie that was worth every questionable life choice it represented.

Later that evening Lola asked if she could sleep upstairs with the boys like one big sleepover. We happily agreed, leaving me with only Wesley at bedtime. He put up much more of a fight than usual. Travel has a way of disrupting even the best routines. It takes patience, consistency, and a little grace before things settle again.

Eventually they always do.

He quietly sang the same little tune to himself over and over until sleep finally found him.

Once the kids were down we played a couple of board games, including my new one, Camarades. It's a simple little push-your-luck dice game that everyone enjoyed.

I also lost both games.

Sophie won both.

I'm not making any accusations.

I'm just saying nobody checked her pockets.

It was such a simple day. No famous landmarks. No bucket-list adventures. Just our kids. Good friends. A pool. Great food. Easy conversations.

Honestly, that's becoming my favourite kind of travel. Not because of where we are, but because of who we're with. Watching our kids experience different homes, different routines, different people... seeing them build confidence in unfamiliar places... those are the memories I hope stay with them long after they've forgotten the name of the place we were visiting.

Before falling asleep, I laid beside Wesley and replayed the day in my head.

The missing pacifiers.

Breakfast around a crowded table.

Watching old friends pick up conversations as though no time had passed.

Hearing news that may very well change the next chapter of our family's life.

I thought about writing it all down.

Then decided not to.

Being there mattered more then documenting it

Besides...

I'm on vacation too.

Maybe that's what today was really about. Not the places we visited... but the life we're slowly trying to build.

Life is beautiful.