The other day, my daughter and I hosted a French toast party. She invited a friend from school and I invited my friend Steph.

We gorged ourselves on French toast, maple syrup and strawberries. I've taken a week off of coffee, so I had a well-earned cup of joe. We then went to the beach. We made a drip castle that Steph announced looked more like a funnel cake. My daughter and her friend simultaneously got nailed by a big wave and I had to prevent two flopping, screaming 5-year-olds from washing out to sea, which is no easy task. I expected my daughter to freak out, but instead she laughed.

We went back the beach shack. Steph chuckled as both of the little girls pulled aside the bottoms of their bathing suits and demanded that I brush the sand off their private parts. She then declined when I offered to do the same for her.

We all went out for yogurt.

Later, after our guests had left, our neighbor, Nick, gave us a big bowl of vegetarian spaghetti that we shared for dinner. Then we played an improvised game with poker chips and playing cards. Out of nowhere, my daughter looked up from the game and announced, "Daddy, today with a really fun day."

She liked making the funnel cake best. My heart nearly exploded.

By no stretch of the imagination am I out of the shit storm this divorce created, but those of you who have been following the process through this blog can stop worrying. We're doing just fine.