The first time I tried to do a “family meeting,” I went full CEO mode. I had a list, an agenda, and even a timer. The kids rolled their eyes, my partner looked confused, and within 10 minutes, we were arguing about screen time instead of connecting. It felt forced.

But later that night, my youngest asked, “Are we doing that thing again next week? I kind of liked talking together.”

That’s when it hit me: family check-ins don’t need to feel like meetings. They can be short, warm, and even fun. They’re just a chance to pause, breathe, and ask each other, “How are we really doing?”

And trust me—you can start your own weekly family check-in, without it ever feeling awkward or stiff.

Growing up, I didn’t have big elaborate family traditions. We weren’t flying off to Disney every year or hosting massive holiday parties. But what I do remember—clear as day—are the little things. Friday nights when my mom would order pizza and we’d all pile onto the couch with mismatched paper plates. Sundays when no one cared if we stayed in pajamas until dinner.

Looking back, those “micro-traditions” mattered more than the big ones. They weren’t about money, planning, or perfection. They were about consistency, comfort, and connection.

And now, as a parent, I see the magic: the rituals our kids look forward to don’t need to be big or fancy—they just need to be ours.

When I was little, my family didn’t have much time together during the week. My parents worked long hours, and dinner was usually quick before we all drifted into our own corners. But once in a while, my mom would pull out a stack of board games after dinner—Uno, Sorry!, and sometimes a puzzle that would take us days to finish.

I didn’t realize it then, but those game nights were magic. They were the rare moments when everyone laughed, playfully argued over rules, and forgot the day’s stress. It wasn’t about winning—it was about being together.

Now, with Squish, I want that same feeling—those small but powerful pockets of connection that don’t need a big budget, just a little intention and maybe some dice.

A Real Moment at Our Dinner Table

Last Tuesday, dinner was grilled cheese, apple slices, and a side of everyone being tired. We’d all had long days. My instinct was to rush through the meal and move on. But instead of defaulting to “How was your day?” I asked a question I hadn’t used before:

“What’s something that surprised you today?”

There was a pause. Then a smile. Then a full five-minute story from a kid who hadn’t said much all day.

That’s when I remembered: Connection doesn’t need a big plan. It just needs a small, open door.

"Parent and child sharing a laugh while dancing or playing in a messy but warm living room."