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Hey friend,

Last night, Sammy and I found something magical in the bathtub.

Not a financial breakthrough. Not a market insight. Not even a lesson I planned to teach him.

A skeletal bunny toy appeared from the bottom of the tub, one of those rubber figures that's been lurking under the bubbles for who knows how long. Sammy's eyes went wide like he'd discovered buried treasure.

So I made the bunny hop along the rim of the tub.

Hop. Hop. Hop.

He belly-laughed. The kind of laugh that comes from somewhere deep, unfiltered, unrehearsed, completely present.

So the bunny hopped again.

The Boat.

The bunny needed a vessel. Obviously.

We grabbed a plastic cup from the side of the tub. The bunny climbed aboard. But a boat needs an oar, right? Sammy found a toy mop handle floating nearby.

And just like that, we had it: a skeletal rubber bunny, standing in a cup boat, rowing through bath bubbles with a toy mop oar.

Absurd. Perfect.

No inbox. No algorithms. No strategy. No KPIs.

Just a dad and his son inventing maritime logistics for a bunny in a bubble bath.

The Magical Part.

There's something about bath time that feels magical.

Not because of the bubbles; though Sammy would argue the bubbles are pretty important. It's because it's one of the few moments in a day where nothing else is competing for your attention.

No notifications. No email. No Volatile Sea headlines scrolling across the bottom of a screen.

Just warm water. A small person who trusts you completely. And whatever adventure you build together out of whatever's floating nearby.

The Navy SEALs have a saying from BUD/S training: "The only easy day was yesterday." Most days feel like that. The grind of building a business, serving clients, managing a household, showing up for your family: it's relentless.

But then there are moments like last night. And you realize: "this" is what all the planning is for. "This" is the return on investment that doesn't fit in a spreadsheet.

What Bath Time Teaches About Money.

I talk to veterans every week who are building something, a career after the uniform, a business, a legacy for their families. And the conversation almost always starts with numbers. TSP balances. VA disability ratings. Tax brackets. Roth conversion windows.

Those numbers matter. I'm a CFP®; I'd never tell you they don't.

But here's what I've learned, both as a financial planner and as a chaplain: the numbers are the vehicle, not the destination.

The Harvard Study of Adult Development, the longest-running study of human happiness, spanning over 85 years, found that the single strongest predictor of life satisfaction isn't wealth, career achievement, or even health.

It's the quality of your relationships.

Not the quantity. The quality.

The people who reported the deepest satisfaction were the ones who had invested in close, warm connections, the kind where you can be a skeletal bunny in a cup boat and nobody judges you for it.

The Investment Nobody Tracks.

Consider what you spent your attention on today. Not your money, your attention.

How many minutes went to email? To headlines about The Volatile Sea? To scrolling past content that added nothing to your life?

Now consider: how many minutes went to someone who matters to you? Full presence. Eye contact. No phone on the table.

Many veterans I work with are excellent at the discipline of saving. Years of military service trained that muscle. What's harder, much harder; is the discipline of spending. Not money. Time. Presence. Attention.

Don't let your portfolio grow while your presence shrinks.

That's a trade no rebalancing strategy can fix.

Your Challenge This Week.

This week, I want you to build a bunny boat.

Not literally, unless you have a toddler, in which case, absolutely literally.

I mean: find one moment this week where you put everything down. The phone. The plan. The to-do list. And you give someone your complete, unfiltered attention.

It might be bath time. It might be a walk. It might be sitting on the porch with your spouse after the kids are in bed, saying nothing, watching the sky go dark over Weatherford.

Whatever it is; that's your bunny boat. That's the investment that compounds in ways no algorithm can model.

Marching with you,