There we were, two boisterous warriors using all of our strength to fight against our invisible Goliath. The setting sun shone on our faces, golden and pink and promising to return another day, as we yelled made-up spells to increase our energy as we pushed back on the force field that kept us from getting home. I took her small hand, soft and warm in mine, and we giggled as we made a final push against our so-called formidable foe.

As we ran up the steps to our front gate, Lana turned her face to me and declared that it was time for our “orange rewards”! Literally, we were going to reward ourselves with a couple of sweet oranges for being so strong in our battle and defeating the enemy, which was the moderate breeze that accompanied our afternoon stroll. Her beautiful face, rosy and sweaty from our adventure, was all lit up with enjoyment as she ate her well-deserved orange (as well as a few pieces of mine!)

I have always been determined to give my children a magical childhood. Not necessarily grand, or expensive – but one that is filled with imagination and adventure. But more often than I would like to admit, I find myself being kept up at night by the worry that I’m doing a terrible job at it. Her brother, who is 5 years older, had the privilege of receiving my undivided attention during all those years. He constantly looks back fondly on the fun we had, just being silly, surprise trips to museums, and farms, and play places. Lana, whose early childhood was spent navigating the pandemic, had so much time taken away from those crucial developmental years; lost time I mourned for a good while. She never had me exclusively all to herself – she only knows a life where mom was constantly divided – and I can’t help but worry that it means she will hate her childhood one day and look back on it with some form of bitterness or resentment.

But this morning, two days after our windy battle, she waltzed into our bedroom happily, humming a made-up tune. I love seeing her calm like that, just happy in her own little inner life, dancing and humming and being. I smiled at her and asked what she was so happy about. Without missing a beat, she said, “I’m happy about our walk the other other day! The one where we fought the wind!” She struck a warrior pose, like a miniature Wonder Woman with her fists up in the air, feet planted firmly on the floor. “The day we received our orange rewards!” I couldn’t help but laugh at her adorable resolve, so convinced of her power.

This was a great reminder for me that to our kids, the most magical things we can give are time and play. Time doesn’t even have to be long stretches or chunks of our day, but even 15 minutes of undivided attention in between Real Life things can make such an impact. Those few minutes where you are on the floor with them, building a city, or toasting imaginary marshmallows, or fighting imaginary battles, can envelope them with so much love that they’ll be thinking about it for days. It can create tradition that gives comfort and security.

One day, when my kids are all grown and out of my usual reach, my hope is that this tradition can become an anchor that keeps them tethered to my heart. A memory and feeling that gives them something to always reach out to and touch when Real Life gets them and they are spinning out of control. The magic comes when they know that no matter what, whether the foe they are fighting is imaginary or very much real, they know that both their father and I will always be there to hold their hand and fight with them. We’ll vanquish the traitorous wind by speaking our prayers to God that will be the source of our strength. As the gold and pink sunset shines on our faces, with the promise of return for another day, we’ll partake of our sweet rewards together, as always.