There are moments in parenting that feel like a slow clap for your soul. Moments where you know—you just know—you got something right. Recently, that moment found me soaking wet, laughing hysterically, and probably a little bit pee-soaked…on a trampoline…in a rainstorm…with my two wild, wonderful “nature kids.”

Watching The Twits on Netflix felt less like a kid’s flick and more like a crash-course in emotional anthropology — the study of cruelty, empathy, and the quiet places where we convince ourselves that being right is the same as being free.

Someone cuts you off in traffic. Your partner checks their phone while you’re mid-story.An email lands in your inbox with a tone that reads way more snarky than necessary. Instantly, your shoulders tighten, your heart rate spikes, and your inner monologue sounds something like: Really? Did they just…?

A story about speed, strength, and the quiet kind of redemption. 

Real life is weird. It’s confusing. It’s stunning and maddening and totally out of our control. And when the glitter starts to fall off, most of us go looking for something—anything—that feels real.

From cave paintings to TED Talks, humans have always been wired for story. It’s how we pass down knowledge, spark connection, and make sense of the messy middle between facts and feelings. At MoveMaker, storytelling isn’t just a tool—it’s the heartbeat of everything we do.

When adults suppress or ignore their inner child, they don’t suddenly become more mature—they become more disconnected. What looks like “growing up” can actually be a slow drift away from joy, curiosity, and presence. And over time, that drift has real, measurable fallout—emotionally, physically, and relationally.

Micro-play is tiny, unscheduled moments of curiosity, silliness, or movement that reconnect us with our inner child. It’s not structured. It’s not scheduled. It’s allowed—and often rediscovered when we drop our guard, self-judgment, or efficiency mode.

These movies (and one very special show) aren't just visually stunning or laugh-out-loud funny—they also dig deep into themes like grief, identity, belonging, forgiveness, and self-worth.

There was no real plan. No adult supervision. Just me, my determination, and a deeply concerning level of false confidence.

Carnations remind us to look again. To appreciate the quietly beautiful. To find richness in reliability. To stop overvaluing flash and underestimating substance. To notice.

If you’ve ever been told “you’re ruining my life” by someone who still needs help opening a string cheese, you may be raising a human between the ages of 3 and 13. Or worse—13 and beyond.

If you’re currently spiraling over centerpieces—be it for a wedding, a shower, a birthday bash—please let this serve as your gentle, slightly ridiculous reminder: Time is wild. Priorities shift. And glassware is forever.

Your vibe isn’t random—it’s rooted in science.

I don’t just stick around for the workouts. I stay for the weird, wonderful circus of humans who show up.

Let’s face it: most of us are just out here trying to make it through the day without yelling at the printer or eating a full sleeve of Oreos in one sitting. But what if the secret to leveling up your life wasn’t another productivity hack or color-coded planner? What if it was just… paying attention?

If you’ve ever hesitated to hit “send,” said “yes” to something you didn’t want to do, or avoided asking for help because yikes, welcome to our club: Fear and the People Who Are Trying to Outgrow It. We meet on Wednesdays.

My 4-year-old is currently living her best double-life. She’s deep in the “I wanna be a baby” phase but also confidently strutting into the “I can do it myself” phase. Honestly, it’s exhausting and adorable and slightly chaotic—kind of like parenting in general.

No one actually knows what they’re doing. Not your boss. Not your favorite influencer. Not even that guy in your yoga class who seems Zen.

Welcome to the wild and wonderful world of Myers-Briggs personality types, where feelings aren't flaws—they're features.