Yesterday afternoon we went for a walk around the neighborhood. My wife and our little one rode in a sling, and my other son rode his scooter, simply wanting to spend time together.

We didn't have any big plans, no gadgets, no screens... just the street, the wind, and the curiosity of children who want to explore the world by rolling.

So we went for a walk around the condominium.

Then we went to a dirt hill near the condominium. It's nothing special, but for him, it's like an adventure trail. We had a good time there, running, jumping, and laughing at our clumsiness. I realized how he grows, how his body learns, adapts, tries, fails, and tries again. And I was there, by his side, not to correct him, but to accompany him.

After so much movement, we returned home thirsty. Together we decided to make some orange juice for lunch. No rush, no hurry. He squeezed the oranges, and I guided him little by little. These are small moments that don't seem like much, but they weave invisible threads between father and son.

While we poured the juice, I thought about how easy it is to get lost in the busyness of everyday life and miss these opportunities. Sometimes we look for extraordinary activities to connect with our children, when in reality, all we need to do is get down on the floor, get down on their level, and say, "I'm here with you."

These small afternoons are seeds. They not only strengthen the friendship between father and son, they also nurture his security, his ability to communicate, his sense of belonging. He knows he has a place in my schedule, and that that place is his, without competition.

Family isn't built with grand speeches, but with small acts repeated with love.

And that's how our afternoon was. No screens, no notifications, no rush. Just us, the wind, the dust, the orange juice... and one more memory to hold dear.