📹 Narrated in reverent tones by Sir AttenDadborough

🎬 The scene opens at precisely 1600 hours. The sun casts a warm glare across a suburban driveway. A government-issued vehicle hums to a stop, its exterior still dusted with sea spray and duty.

Narrator:
Here we witness the return of the North American Coast Guard Boat Dad—a rare but cherished event in the domestic ecosystem. After a day of patrols, water rescues, and explaining buoy laws to civilians, he reenters his home terrain.

🚪 He opens the front door. His boots are damp. His morale is floating somewhere between “proud” and “sleepy.” He dreams of hydration, a reclined position, and ideally—silence.

Nope.

🧃 From the shadows of the living room, Cub One (James, age 3) lunges with a war cry of joy. Sticky. Shirtless. He hurls himself into Dad’s torso like an affectionate cannonball with boundary issues.

“NO PHONE, DADDY! ONLY BOOKS! DO THE BEAR VOICE!”

📚 A board book lands in his lap mid-impact. Clarice the noodle snake is wrapped around his leg. Cub One begins pointing frantically: “Read THIS PAGE. And this one. But say it like a dinosaur with allergies.”

🐾 Cub Two (Jack, age 7) appears moments later, climbing into the lap pile with the grace of a medium-sized kangaroo. He brings updates about school, space travel, and a drawing he labeled “The Wind vs My Feelings.”

Narrator:
The father attempts to respond. He is buried under two cubs, a juice box, and something emotionally sticky. His hands remain unfree. His coffee remains unseen.

🎶 In the background, the cat (Pookie) watches from atop the bookshelf, judging his lack of escape protocol. She will not offer help. She is not a rescue cat.

🛥️ This is his life now. From sea to suburban storm. From boat to blanket fortress. From rigid duty to chaotic love.

Narrator:
And despite the exhaustion, despite the urgent need for caffeine, the Coastie Dad smiles. Because while the ocean may test his strength, it is nothing compared to the living room at 4:01 PM.