Beach or mountains? Mountains every time. I blame Colorado. When you grow up with those towering peaks looming outside your window like stern but loving sitcom parents, you get attached. They’re basically the Carl Winslow of landscapes—solid, wise, and always there to remind you to bring a jacket.

But then I married Adam, a wizard who works in IT, which is basically tech support but with more sparkles and slightly fewer ethical guidelines. Ever since then, the mountains have become even more irresistible. They’re crawling with magical creatures I didn’t even know existed back when the most thrilling thing in my life was binge-watching Avatar: The Last Airbender at 2 a.m. while pretending I didn’t have work in the morning.

Now, going up into the hills is like stepping directly into a crossover episode: griffins perched on rock ledges like judgmental cats, unicorns prancing around as if they’re auditioning for a shampoo commercial, satyrs who absolutely have main-character energy, and will-o’-the-wisps that seem convinced my baby Tara is secretly their queen.

And watching the kids react to it? Pure comedy gold. James, at four, treats every griffin sighting like he’s announcing a new Pokémon discovery. Sophie waves at satyrs the way she waves at delivery drivers. Tara just looks around like she’s waiting for the studio audience to laugh.

Honestly, that’s why I love the mountains. It feels like a live-action version of every show I adore—part fantasy, part chaotic sitcom, part anime battle sequence whenever Adam tries to “debug” a rogue enchantment with his wand and a lot of nervous muttering.

But underneath all the glitter and griffins, the mountains still feel like home. They’re where I get to share pieces of my own childhood with my kids, only now those pieces occasionally include a magical creature trying to steal our snacks.

And if a little of that everyday weirdness brings someone else a smile or two, then hey—mission accomplished. The world could always use a bit more laughter… preferably the kind that doesn’t involve sand stuck in places no spell should have to touch.