It all started with a simple idea: build a pillow fortress in the living room. Kristina, of course, was the mastermind.
"Kris," she whispered, eyes sparkling, "today we're going to build the ultimate fortress. No adults allowed inside!"
"Sounds safe," I said, glancing at the pile of pillows on the couch. It looked more like a mountain than anything fort-like.
Kristina grabbed a couch cushion and held it above her head dramatically. "This is the first wall!"
I picked up a pillow and accidentally smacked her in the arm. "Oops!"
She glared at me. "Oops isn't allowed. That's a fortress violation!"
Grandma, who had been watching us suspiciously from her chair, muttered, "Violation or not, someone's going to break a lamp."
Kristina ignored her. "Sidekick, carry the blankets!"
"I'm carrying them," I said, struggling to lift three at once. One slipped, and a pillow hit me square in the face.
"Ouch!" I shouted.
Kristina laughed. "Perfect! That's how you know it's real fortress construction. You must sacrifice yourself to the walls!"
Grandma shook her head. "Sacrifice yourself? They're going to give you bruises before breakfast."
"Pfft," Kristina said. "Bruises build character."
By the time we finished, the "fortress" looked… impressive in the most ridiculous way. Pillows stacked unevenly, blankets draping over the top like a saggy roof, and couch cushions leaning dangerously to one side.
"I declare this fortress complete!" Kristina said, stepping back to admire her work.
"Looks like a pile of laundry," I said.
"That's called artistic vision, Kris. And you will respect it."
Just then, Mom walked in with a cup of tea. "What is happening in here?"
Kristina spun dramatically. "We've built the ultimate fortress! No adults allowed!"
Mom raised an eyebrow. "Except me?"
"Absolutely not!" Kristina said firmly.
Grandma hobbled closer. "You kids are going to fall on each other and break your necks."
Kristina waved her off. "We are highly trained fortress builders. Don't worry, Grandma. Your supervision is not needed."
Grandma muttered something under her breath about how "supervision is always needed," but she sat down anyway, because let's face it—Grandma always worried.
The next mission was simple: a fortress heist. Kristina had hidden some of her "treasures" inside the fortress: a shiny rock, a plastic dinosaur, and my favorite—a tiny chocolate coin she claimed was "magically cursed."
"You must sneak in, sidekick," Kristina instructed. "Avoid the booby traps."
I looked at the fortress and back at her. "Booby traps?"
"Obviously," she said. "Look carefully."
I tiptoed toward the fortress, careful not to step on any obvious pillows. Kristina jumped in front of me.
"Not so fast! You must roll under the entrance."
I looked at her. "Roll under?"
"Yes! The ground is lava!"
I sighed but did it anyway, rolling across the carpet like a professional ninja. My elbow hit a pillow.
"Boom! Trap triggered!" Kristina shouted.
I groaned. "It's just a pillow."
"Not just a pillow," she said. "It's a pillow of doom."
Grandma peeked from the corner. "Pillow of doom? Someone's going to die laughing at this."
Ignoring her, I crawled to the treasure and grabbed the chocolate coin. I held it triumphantly.
"I did it!" I shouted.
Kristina gasped. "You survived! Truly a hero!"
I held it up. "It's cursed, you said."
"Yes! But you are brave, so the curse won't touch you… yet."
I looked at her suspiciously. "Or maybe it already has."
We both laughed. Kristina picked up her toy dinosaur. "Next, you must defend the fortress!"
"Defend?"
"Yes! From the enemy!"
I squinted. "Who's the enemy?"
"You," Kristina said immediately. "Because you are part of the fortress too."
"What?!"
"Yes! Sidekick rule: sometimes you attack."
I groaned. "This is unfair."
Kristina lunged at me with a pillow. "Attack begins!"
We wrestled, flopped, and rolled around the living room, knocking pillows everywhere. I managed to grab a cushion and shield myself. Kristina dramatically fell on top of me.
"Ow!" I shouted, laughing.
"Perfect! That's how we fight in the fortress!" she said.
Grandma hobbled closer again. "I swear, one of you is going to need a doctor by lunch."
Mom peeked in. "I think the doctor would just laugh at this one."
By the end, the living room was a mess. Pillows everywhere, blankets tangled, and Kristina and I collapsed on the floor, laughing until our stomachs hurt. Grandma shook her head but couldn't hide her smile.
"You kids are impossible," she muttered.
Kristina looked at me with a mischievous grin. "Impossible? That's our middle name."
I laughed. "Mine is Sidekick."
"Exactly," she said, pointing at me with her stick. "And together, Sidekick and Commander Kristina are unstoppable."
Later, while we were "resting" in our fortress, Mom brought us lemonade. Grandma hovered, checking that we didn't spill it on the floor.
"You know," Grandma said, "I don't know how you two survive these adventures every day."
Kristina leaned against me. "We survive because we have each other… and because we make Mom and Grandma do all the worrying."
Grandma huffed. "Worrying is a job! And you're very ungrateful employees."
I laughed. "We're learning… slowly."
Kristina smiled. "One day, sidekick, we'll run a real adventure. No adults allowed."
I groaned. "Do we have to?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Adventure is serious business."
And as I looked at Kristina, at Mom sipping tea in the background, and Grandma keeping her eyes on us like hawks, I realized something.
No matter what happened, no matter how messy or chaotic our days were, laughter, silliness, and a little chaos was exactly what childhood should feel like.
And Kristina—Commander, protector, and hilarious mastermind—would always make sure of it.