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He strolled down the path, a giggling three year old on his shoulders.
"Daddy. Daddy! I can see our house! I can see uncle Ben's house, and Gran's house, too! Daddy, look!" The little boy started pulling at his father's hair in annoyance. "Daddy, you're not looking!" His father laughed at his sons impatience.
"I see, buddy, I do. Why don't you wave? Maybe they can see us, too." The boy waved, enthusiastically. "Right. Off you go." He crouched down carefully, setting the toddler on the ground. "Play nice, okay?" The boy shot off as fast as his little legs would allow. He fell into step beside his wife, affectionately draping his arm over her shoulders, and nuzzled her hair.
"I have no idea where he gets his enthusiastic energy from!" She teased playfully, as he kissed her temple.
"Well, with any luck, this little one-" He stopped the pushchair holding his eight month old daughter, "-will be more like her mummy. Adorably contemplative, and sweet." He leaned down to unbuckle the squirming tot, rubbing her nose with his when she reached for his face. Blowing raspberries on her cheek when she gurgled, he lifted her out.
"Knowing my luck, however, there'll be more days when I'm peeling all three of you off the ceiling than there won't." She laughed, remembering the bout of hyperactiveness she'd had to endure shortly before their daughter was born. The 'no sugar an hour before the pre-bedtime hour' still stood firm, much to her boys annoyance. "A big kid and a toddler is hard work as it is. The three of you will be the death of me when she's old enough to join in." He blew her an over dramatic kiss as she laid down a blanket on the grass. He sat the babbling, cooing bundle on the grass, where she promptly began tearing clumps out with her fingers. Quickly tiring of the lack of attention, she turned onto her front and crawled up to her father who, as always, couldn't pick her up quick enough. Settling her in his lap, he pulled out his keys, softly kissing the top of her head.
"She still smells new," he sighed, closing his eyes. "all clean, and baby-like. I hate that she'll stop smelling like that, it's a wonderful scent." He started playing with her toes, which earned him a squeal. "Such cute little piggies you have, my little darling." He reached into the obscenely overstuffed bag he insisted on dragging anywhere they went, and dug out the little tots lunch and a bottle of exceptionally watered down juice. His wife kissed his cheek, and stood.
"Seeing as my presence is completely redundant over here, I'm going to keep your son out of trouble." He looked at her, feigning shock.
"Our son? Trouble? Pfft. Never." He turned to coo at his daughter. "Isn't that right, poppet? Or are you too busy bathing in your din dins to offer an opion?" He chuckled, wiping her face and fingers. Kissing his daughters hand, he fed her what was left of the bland mush she'd been covering herself in. Glancing up, he saw his wife chasing their son around the park. "Your mummy is a silly one, isn't she?" He spoke softly, picking up her bottle. Scooting back to lean against a tree, he snuggles her into his arms, humming quietly whilst she drank. When she decided she was done, she spat out the teat, wriggling. "Daddy duty again, huh?"
Once she was all cleaned up, and her giggles has died down from him tickling her ear with his nose, he resettled her into his arms and began humming again. After a little while, he noticed her breathing was soft and even, with the occasional sigh and snuffle. He smiled broadly; he loved her adoreable little sleepy snuffly sounds. Kissing her little head gently, he thought back on every moment of joy the last four years had brought. He'd made the right decision, he concluded. He was happier than ever, as he looked up to see his mischievous son tearing down the path to where he was sat.
Yes. He was very happy.