We’ve jet-skied the warm tropical waters of Disney’s private island at Castaway Key. We’ve played video games, flown the Millennium Falcon, and fought light saber battles with storm troopers. I’ve danced at the Cinderella Ball with Chrissy dressed up like a princess and taken Joey on about five hundred trips down the high-rise waterslide. The kids have seen almost every single Disney movie ever made, including a production of Fantasia with a live orchestra. We’ve eaten our way from one end of this ship’s countless restaurants and snack stops to the other, gorged ourselves on ice cream, cake, and cookies. Millie’s made herself a fixture at the salon and spa, developing a particular fondness for Swedish massage. And Jack and I have danced until the wee hours a couple of nights, just enjoying one another and the fleeting time we have after hours, once the kids are tucked in.

It’s been an action-packed, non-stop adventure from day one. Now, it’s drawing to a close. We’re leaving Castaway Key tonight. We’ll cross the Gulf Stream overnight and will be back in Miami by morning. Tomorrow night we’ll fly home, and after that, we have just one day to recover before Jack and I go back to work and the kids return to school. They’ll have a lot of new Disney gear, photos, and a deep Caribbean tan to show their classmates and teachers.

“As much as I hate to say it, we should all make an early night of it,” I say as our server clears our plates at the close of dinner. “They’re kicking us off the ship after breakfast, and we have a plane to catch tomorrow afternoon. It’s gonna be a long day.”

The kids have long faces, and even Millie seems disappointed our vacation is coming to an end.

“There’s one thing I want to do,” Jordan says.

“What’s that?” I ask, knowing full well what he’s going to say.

“Will you and Jack come with me,” he asks, biting his lip a little nervously. “Watch me climb?”

“Sure,” I say. “If you want us to.”

Millie takes Joey and Chrissy to our rooms to begin the process of packing up, while Jack and I accompany Jordan to the lower decks. It’s the first I’ve seen of this rock wall. It’s taller than any other I’ve ever seen, and despite the colorful decoration and careful design, it looks daunting.

“Can he really climb this?” I ask Jack as Jordan dons the sturdy harness and shoes required to mount the wall.

Jack gives me a hopeful look. “Well,” he says. “He tried pretty hard the first time. He did more falling than actual climbing, but he never gave up”

Jordan mounts the wall, managing his own ropes and hooking in. We watch him ascend the easiest part of the climb, reaching about twenty feet above the floor before he stops, gripping precariously, hanging on, then moving the location of his rope anchor before going on.

At first, he makes it look easy, but the higher he goes the more difficult the ascent becomes. The footholds and handholds are father apart. The distance between rope anchors is greater. When he’s half-way up—perhaps fifty feet—it occurs to me that falling from even that height is almost certainly fatal.

“It’s okay,” Jack reassures me, as if he’s reading my thoughts. “He’s safe. The ropes will catch him.”

“That’s one determined kid,” a voice speaks up from behind us.

I turn. A fresh-faced young man with the wiry build of a seasoned mountain climber stands a few feet away, peering up at Jordan. He glances at me, then back up.

“He’s been here every day, and no matter how many times he slips and falls, he keeps on going. I’ve never seen anyone get so good at it, so fast. But that’s kids for you. They learn, and their bodies adapt.”

Jordan reaches a spot three quarters of the way up where he seems stuck, unsure what to do next. I crane my neck to see what his next move will be. My heart skips a beat when he lets go of his narrow toe-hold, letting his legs dangle beneath him, then, releases his right hand from its hand hold, and he’s just hanging on by his left. I’m sure he’s going to fall, but instead he swings once, then twice, using his legs to leap across the face of the wall, catching a hold with the point of his toe, his little body splayed almost horizontal across the wall face.

“Nice!” the kid behind us calls out. “Epic!”

He punches me on the shoulder gently. “He’s in the crux now. Two more moves and he’ll flash it. He’s never made it that high before.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Jack asks, unfazed by the kid’s slang.

“It means he’s going to finish the climb,” the kid says, a bright smile beaming across his face. “That jump he just made got him past the hardest part. As long as he can find the rest of the footholds, he’s home free.”

The young man steps forward, raising his hands, cupping them around his mouth, calling up to Jordan. “Don’t forget to fix your next anchor!”

Jordan, hanging on to the face of the wall with his body tense and shaking, lifts his rope high above his head, securing it on a bolt on the wall.

He’s got twenty feet to go before he reaches the ledge. My heart pounds in my chest and my neck aches from looking up, but I can’t take my eyes off him.

He pauses, resting, tightening his support rope, not looking down. He peers up at the teasing ledge and begins again, using his legs to continue to scale the rock wall slow—but sure.

“He’s a natural,” the climbing kid says, glancing back at us. “And he’s fearless. I hope he has somewhere to climb at home.”

Only the whole of the Blue Ridge Mountains. And I’d bet there’s a rock climbing studio too.

We watch Jordan make it to the last good foothold before he reaches the top. He’s too small to reach the lip of the ledge with his hands and appears stuck, looking around for another way to make it the last few inches. Three feet away to his right, there’s a narrow ledge just wide enough to get a toe on. He swings for it, spreading his legs in a wide split. He hangs on with his left hand, his right hand seeking friction wherever he can get it.

With that accomplished, he’s spread-eagled, facing the wall. I can’t imagine how he’ll pull out of it, but he does. In one explosive power move, he launches off his left leg, lifts his right toe, popping it another two feet higher on the wall, while his left claims the spot his right just abandoned.

His hands pop up, gripping the top of the ledge. All he needs to do now is scramble up and over.

Jordan takes a moment, panting. His t-shirt drenched with sweat.

I watch him lift his left leg as the other trembles, pushing him up while arms strain to pull himself over the lip of the wall with an awkward, scrambling haste. These moments are desperate for him; it’s obvious in the way he pushes through his body’s shakes just to get a little bit higher.

He collapses on the top of the summit. We can only see his feet for a minute. Then he sits up, punching the air with victorious fists. In a second, he’s on his feet with his head lifted and excited bellows echoing.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! I did it!”

“Look at that,” Jack beams, peering up at Jordan’s accomplishment. “Wow!”

After he’s celebrated, after he’s dropped on his hands and knees to look down and make sure we didn’t miss a moment of his epic journey, Jordan belays down. His descent is a few seconds—hardly anything like the hour plus it took for him to climb the summit.

He’s pumped up, bouncing on wobbly legs and bursting with pride.

“I did it!” he repeats again and again. “I really did it! It was so hard, but I kept going and I didn’t fall even once!”

I’m so proud, I feel like I just climbed that wall. I don’t have enough praise to heap on him. Jack however, knows exactly the right thing to say.

“Just like algebra,” he says. “You’re the most determined kid I ever met. You put your mind to something, and nothing will ever beat you. You’re amazing! You’re unstoppable!”

Jordan grins like a kid on Christmas morning. I slip my arm around his shoulder, giving him a hug. “You just did something that blows my mind, Jordan. You know, as strong as I am, there’s no way in hell I could ever do that. Right?”

He peers up at me wide-eyed. “Sure you could, Uncle Dillon. You just need to be willing to fall a lot first and look like a dumb ass, take a few risks and fail before you get it right. It’s so worth it!”

Out of the mouths of babes. This kid is going places. Mark my words.

* * *

“I’m looking forward to being at home,” Jack says, nuzzling up against my shoulder. “But I’m honestly going to miss this. We’ve had fun, and the kids have just come alive. Chrissy’s got two new pen pals, and Joey’s a regular Flipper in the pool. The kid learned how to freestyle in two days.”

It’s true. Joey was the only little kid willing to dive from the high board. He mastered the swan dive on his third try. I’m proud of all of them.

Outside our balcony door, I catch a flash lightening. It’s quickly followed by the dull, rolling lull of thunder far in the distance, over the water.

“Hmm,” Jack observes. “They said we might have some weather tonight.”

Thunderstorms are predicted to roll through all night as we steam west, headed toward Miami.

Jack and I drift off to sleep as rain begins falling on the balcony beyond our closed door. The lightning flashes increase, and the wind rises. I always loved the sound of a thunderstorm. The gentle rocking of the boat lulls me into sweet dreams. I spoon Jack inside my arms, breathing easy, letting the world slip away as we sleep.

When next I open my eyes, early morning sun streams brightly in, rousing me. I roll back to stretch, and my elbow dives straight into a smallish, very warm body snuggled up against me.

Jordan stirs, lifting his head to look at me with half-lidded eyes. Tiredly, he smiles at me. Joey is nestled between Jack and me, the blanket pulled up to his chin. At our feet, Chrissy is stretched out, hugging a pillow and draped in a blanket brought from elsewhere.

“What’s all this?” I ask, yawning, amazed Jack is still snoozing.

Jordan sits up on an outstretched arm, his skin tanned, his lean, little boy muscles flexed.

“They got scared when the storm got bad,” he says, nodding to his brother and sister. “The lightning was awful, and the thunder was loud. I brought them in here because they couldn’t sleep. I fell asleep by accident. I wasn’t scared though.”

Of course not.

“No way,” I say, reaching forward, circling his shoulder, pulling him close in a reassuring hug. “You’re not scared of anything. You’re a good brother, taking care of them like that. Thanks for being good to them.”

Jordan smiles drowsily, his eyes still heavy from a sleepless night.

“I love you, kiddo,” I say, kissing the top of his head. “And I’m so proud of you.”

* * *

Our bags are packed and collected by seven-thirty a.m., leaving us with nothing to do except enjoy a leisurely breakfast before the ship docks at Port Canaveral in Miami. We were scheduled to dock at eight-thirty, but last night’s storms slowed our progress slightly.

“I so enjoyed being able to spend time with you all,” Millie says, “And I hope we can keep it up.”

Jack nods, smiling easily. Chrissy reaches across the table, placing her hand over Millie’s. “We had a good time. Thank you for the spa treatment and the Bippity Boppity Boutique. I’m wearing my tiara to school when I get back. Everybody’s going to be so jealous!”

I can’t help but smile. My smart-mouthed little tomboy Chrissy has bonded with her inner pampered princess. It’s good to have both aspects of her personality to call on.

“That’s so sweet, Chrissy. It was my pleasure,” Millie responds, squeezing Chrissy’s hand.

She looks up, resting her gaze on Jack, then on me.

“I was thinking,” she says, a slight hesitation checking her usual directness. “Florida is so hot in the summertime, and there really aren’t any real seasons except for hurricane season, which is awful. I was thinking about maybe looking at property a little closer to you all.”

Jack’s eyes widen. He appears genuinely surprised.

“Really?” he asks.

“That would be great!” Joey exclaims, a gleeful smile brightening him. “You could teach me gymnastics, just like you said you would!”

“Gymnastics?” Jack asks, grinning, shaking his head. “Is that how you learned to dive so fast? Did Millie show you some moves?”

He nods his little head, eyes smiling. “I can do hand stands and cartwheels too.”

“I bet you can,” Jack says, peering at his mother.

“I think that would be a great idea, Millie,” I say. “I know the kids would love to have you around as much as possible.”

“How about you?” she asks Jack, putting him on the spot.

“I think it would be good too,” he responds. “I think we’d all really like that.”

“And maybe next year we can do another cruise,” Millie adds. “My treat. Maybe we can go to Alaska, or even England. You know they go all over.”

“Alaska!” Jordan cries. “Whales! And icebergs. That would be awesome!”

“That’s crazy expensive,” Jack says. “Let’s not get the kids’ hopes up.”

“Life’s short, honey,” she replies. “And there’s no greater joy than spending your inheritance making you and your family happy while I’m still around to enjoy it with you. Lord knows, we can’t take it with us.”

Jack’s right. His mother has found some wisdom. She’s great with the kids, treating them as if they’re her own. She’s been nothing but kind to me on this trip. If she’s willing to uproot her life to join ours, increasing the love we can give to these kids, I’m all for it.

They deserve it, and it’s long past overdue for them.