Feature
The Widbin Way
Meet a family that fills their home with laughter, love and inclusion.
- Heather Anne Lee
- Fred Lopez
If the Widbin household had a motto, it might be something like: Joy is non-negotiable. Love is inevitable. And yes, there’s a bounce house in the loft.
From the outside, they look like any other happy Florida family—two kids, a home pulsing with laughter, an Instagram feed full of games, family adventures, matching pajamas, and goofy glasses. But step inside, past the wide hallways built for Jack’s wheelchair and the game closet that could supply a small-town library, past the sun-drenched nook where Alaythia curates her ever-expanding LEGO collection into towns and stories told through videos, and you’ll realize: this isn’t just a house.
It’s a living, breathing love letter to play. A blueprint for belonging. A quiet rebellion against the idea that life has to be hard just because it sometimes is.
Jack has cerebral palsy. And while his diagnosis could have dictated limits, Andi and Jeremy Widbin decided to build a world where possibility wins.
LEGOs are a family love story. Here, Andi and Alaythia craft a mini world—one brick at a time—before Alaythia brings it to life in her next epic video story.
“In the beginning, I just felt really alone. I didn’t know any other parents with a kid like Jack. So I started looking for them.” Now, @widbin_world is a space for connection and the constant reminder that joy and challenge can coexist."
A Love Story (With Basketballs and Guitars)
Andi and Jeremy’s love story started in the late-night glow of a liberal arts college gym in Indiana. Andi was the only girl on their pickup basketball team, a fierce competitor who outlasted most of the guys in post-game hangouts. Eventually, the crowd would dwindle, leaving just Andi and Jeremy sitting on the track mats, talking about music, life, and everything in between. When they discovered they both played guitar, Jeremy suggested a jam session. “And the rest is history,” Andi says, laughing.
They got married three weeks after graduating in 2012 and settled into careers in the orthopedic industry in Warsaw, Indiana—because, fun fact, it’s the orthopedic capital of the world. Life was stable, predictable. Alaythia was born in 2014. Then Jack came along in 2018, and the world tilted.
Cerebral palsy diagnoses don’t arrive with a clear timeline. Jack met cognitive milestones, but physically, things weren’t lining up. A brain MRI confirmed he had suffered a stroke at birth, and the youngest Widbin was officially diagnosed with CP. Andi and Jeremy quickly realized that if they wanted Jack to have the best shot at independence, they needed to move somewhere with better resources.
That search led them to UCP of Central Florida, a school known for its inclusive education and therapy-based programs. It wasn’t just a school—it was a lifeline, a place where Jack could grow and thrive. The fact that it happened to be located near Disney, in a charming town known for family-friendly neighborhoods and a distinct lack of snow was simply a bonus.
They sold their house in 24 hours, packed up for Winter Garden, and moved into a rental while they built their home in a gated community off Hartwood Marsh. They knew no one, but Andi had a plan.
“I snuck onto the neighborhood Facebook page before we even moved in,” she confesses. “We started crashing block parties. We trick-or-treated before our house was built. We just inserted ourselves into the community. ”
It worked. The Widbins built not just a house, but a village.
Whether exploring the parks, sailing on themed adventures or snuggling with Charlie, the Widbins are on a mission to make the most of every moment.
Play Is Sacred Here
The Widbin household is the kind of place where game nights are sacred, where furniture is sometimes moved aside for impromptu dance parties, and where no one questions why a bounce house lives indoors.
But before the games and the dance parties, there was the house itself—a home designed not just for Jack’s mobility needs but for the ever-changing rhythms of a growing family. When they built it, Andi and Jeremy thought beyond just ramps and door widths. They envisioned a space that would work for Jack now and in the future, while still being a dream home for their daughter, Alaythia, too.
Wide hallways allow for smooth wheelchair navigation, but they also double as a racetrack for the hoverboard Alaythia likes to ride. The open floor plan keeps everyone connected—whether it’s for casual conversation, a spontaneous living-room game night, or nightly homework. Doorways are extra-wide, and there are no sunken living spaces or tricky step-downs to navigate. Instead, gentle, seamless transitions make every room accessible without feeling clinical.
If they had to do it over again, Andi says they might skip the stairs, but right now, Jack enjoys racing down them backward on his stomach. The faster, the better. It’s equal parts nerve-wracking and impressive, but it’s also a reminder that Jack is constantly adapting, finding his own ways to move through the world. Andi and Jeremy hope that with more strength and training, he’ll eventually learn to navigate up as easily as down. Until then, they celebrate every new skill, every small victory, knowing that what works today might change tomorrow.
That’s the thing about this house—it evolves with them.
What would have been the dining room is currently a sensory learning area. It might transform into something else entirely as his needs shift, but for now, it’s a space where he can learn, explore, and just be. The built-in shelving, so carefully planned, makes sure the things Jack needs are within reach while keeping other, less Jack-friendly items safely tucked away.
As for Andi, her favorite aspect of the home is the light—lots of it—spilling through oversized windows, illuminating a space built for movement, creativity, and play. The ceilings soar, making room for the kind of childhood that isn’t boxed in by limitations. This house isn’t just designed for the family’s needs today; it’s built for the possibilities of tomorrow.
Because, in this family, play is serious business.
Speaking of play: The bounce house in the loft? That’s a gift from their neighbors’ twins. Apparently, after seeing a video of Jack heartbroken because he was left out of one at a party, the twins decided that wasn’t acceptable. “They just gave him theirs,” Andi says. With HOA rules nixing it from the front yard, the Widbins chose to keep it inside instead. Like everything else in this house, it’s a testament to adaptation, inclusion, and the joy of a childhood where every space is designed for both Alaythia and Jack to thrive.
Jeremy, a self-proclaimed board game connoisseur, has amassed an impressive collection over the years. “It’s borderline obsessive,” Andi jokes. “It’s a problem.” But it’s a happy one. Alaythia, ever the critical thinker, thrives on puzzle-based escape games. Meanwhile, Jack dominates Mario Kart using an adaptive controller that lets him play one-handed. “And he’s usually winning,” Andi says proudly. “It’s amazing to watch!”
In this house, inclusion isn’t just a philosophy—it’s in the blueprints, the game rules, the way light fills the space, and the way love fills every corner.
Thanks to the adaptive controller, Jack and Jeremy are leveling up their father-son bonding—one victory at a time!
“Pizza parties and LEGO sets are our family’s love language.”
Connections Matter
Andi didn’t set out to build a social media presence around her family’s life—she was just looking for other parents who understood. “In the beginning, I just felt really alone,” she says. “I didn’t know any other parents with a kid like Jack. So I started looking for them.”
She found a few, then more. Slowly, her small circle of shared experiences expanded. She started posting—first just for friends, then for the growing community of people who saw their own stories in hers. Now, their page, @widbin_world, is more than just updates and glimpses into their life—it’s a space for connection, encouragement, and the constant reminder that joy and challenge can coexist.
Because for the Widbins, joy is not something that happens in the absence of struggle. Joy is cultivated, tended to, fought for. It’s in the board games and the bike rides, the Mario Kart victories and the hours spent constructing LEGO masterpieces. It’s in the tail wags of Charlie, the family’s love-soaked Canine Companion, who was meant to be a therapy dog for Jack but turned into a therapy dog for them all.
“I thought we were getting Charlie for Jack—to be a companion, to help with sensory comfort, to pick up dropped items. And he is all of that. But what I didn’t realize was how much the rest of us needed him, too. He’s not just Jack’s therapy dog—he’s ours. He absorbs whatever we’re feeling, offers comfort before we even know we need it, and somehow, without saying a word, reminds us that we’re all in this together.”
And when it comes to family time, they carry that same spirit—prioritizing play, adventure, and shared experiences. Lately, that’s meant exploring the theme parks and the open sea together.
Through a well-honed strategy of loyalty points, Andi and Jeremy have unlocked the ultimate travel hack: free cruises. “We probably went on three last year,” Andi says. “We basically just pay tax and gratuity. It’s ridiculous.”
But for the Widbins, the cruises aren’t just about the deal—they’re about the adventure. Each trip is an opportunity to step outside routine, soak up the sun, and embrace the simple joys of being together. On their most recent cruise, taken with friends, they spent days hopping between pools, lingering over endless soft-serve cones, and sinking their toes into warm beach sand. The kids built elaborate sand islands while the adults laughed along. Evenings were for late-night games, pizza parties, live music, and the thrill of earning more points to start planning the next trip.
Because for the Widbins, life isn’t just about keeping up—it’s about diving in, saying yes, and finding joy in every experience. And if that experience happens to come with an ocean breeze, bottomless ice cream, and a floppy-eared dog waiting at home? Even better.
