Relaxing in Campbell

Jeremy and I find ourselves in sunny California, on a mission of pure relaxation — family time, gentle sunshine, and absolutely zero alarms allowed. Campbell greets us like a warm hug: 75 degrees, soft breeze, sunshine so golden it looks filtered by the universe itself.

We unpack, shake off travel sleepiness, and decide to wander the charming streets of downtown Willow Glen while we wait for my niece and nephew to finish their academic duties (tiny humans have full schedules, alright?). We browse little shops, pick up a few toys — because arriving with offerings feels very fairy-godparent–meets–cool-aunt brigade.

Time with the Kiddos

Soon it's pickup time. My dad heads off to get my niece, Penelope, while Mom escorts us to Omer’s daycare. She warns us he might be shy — only almost-three, he hasn’t seen us since he was a squishy baby, and toddlers are known for their very honest reactions.

But the moment we walk in? Omer toddles right over, no hesitation, no dramatic “who are these strangers” meltdown. The boy walks with confidence — like he’s a tiny mayor greeting important constituents. I lift him into his car seat, and instead of being suspicious of the bearded man beside him, he simply points and says, “Who’s that?” — and then immediately begins offering Jeremy his dinosaur stickers like he's presenting royal gifts. Smoothest toddler introduction ever.

Back at the house, Dad and Penelope aren’t home yet, so we entertain our tiny host. Jeremy attempts to teach Omer the ancient art of the yo-yo — which, it turns out, is harder when you're lacking in height. Omer’s arms are tiny, the yo-yo string is clearly enchanted to be longer than physics allows, and the floor keeps stealing the yo-yo with a thwack.

We improvise: raise the hobbit child.

A small stool appears like a prop in a fantasy tale, and we place him upon it. Behold — Omer, Keeper of the High Ground. He drops the yo-yo perfectly every time, but when he tries to summon it back up like a wizard calling his staff? It hovers… inches away… then plummets again.

“Oh no,” he sighs each time, in the most dramatic, weary-hero voice, before dutifully rewinding the string. Honestly, it's academy-award material. Jeremy is patient and earnest — and though I have never been a yo-yo success story myself, I manage one triumphant up-and-down. I retire victorious and hand the yo-yo back to its tiny rightful owner.

Eventually, the yo-yo loses its charm (fair — all heroes need variety), and Omer retrieves the sacred Bubbles Bottle. We migrate to the backyard, where sunlight filters through trees and the air fills with floating, shimmering orbs.

Dad and Penelope return, and Penelope joins our bubble brigade. She asks me to photograph the short palm tree in my parents’ yard. I approach it, expecting soft tropical foliage— and instead meet a plant armed like a medieval hedgehog. Those leaves are spiky. Betrayal! Beautiful betrayal, but betrayal nonetheless. I snap the picture anyway, because even stabby plants deserve their moment.

It’s a slow, simple day — sunshine, bubbles, giggles, and family — the kind that wraps around you like a favorite childhood blanket. A vacation doesn’t need neon signs and crowded attractions; sometimes all you need is warm weather, tiny stickers, and an under-three yo-yo warrior to make your heart full.