Every evening, Hubs and I sit on the porch.

He lounges on the swing, while I sprawl in a double Adirondack chair crafted by Hubs’ grandfather.

We have a glass of wine or a cocktail and catch up on the day’s events. Meanwhile, the children play in the front yard — with sidewalk chalk, the garden hose, dinosaurs and Pet Shops.

We wave at our neighbors across the street, who also sit outside each night. They don’t mind if the kids play in their yard or, on my gym nights, if Hubs joins them for some conversation.

Sometimes, we wander over to Francisco’s house, which is catty-corner from ours. Francisco runs a taco truck. Each night, heavenly aromas drift from his grill to our porch.

Luckily, he’s a generous guy who takes pity on the two native Texans who miss their Tex-Mex. He’s brought us chicken, steak, tortillas and homemade salsa. In exchange, we leave beer on his front porch.

We also wave at our dog-walking friends, Rhonda and Jennifer.

I love this evening ritual. It’s relaxing. It gives Hubs and I some couple time. And it gets the kids outdoors for an hour or two.

Our view?

Mud fight!

Which escalates to water fights!

Examining a spider web.

Little man raking.