For price and convenience, we've chosen the art deco Essex House Hotel, a block off the beach and in the thick of the South Beach whirr. There is a public garage next door, an asset in this parking-starved land.

After checking in, Michelle and I join other guests for a free glass of wine in the lounge, then gather the kids and stroll two blocks to the fascinating Wolfsonian museum­ on Washington Avenue. The Wolf, which contains an amalgam of North American and European artifacts dating from 1885 to 1945, has a Friday happy hour, where visitors roam free of charge from six to nine.

A retrospective of propaganda posters and other items from the late-19th to mid-20th centuries mesmerizes Maddy, the family political activist. She borrows a pen and starts scribbling ideas on a piece of scrap paper. Michelle is drawn to Chas Laborde's witty, satirical illustrations representing modern city life during the 1920s and '30s. Historical gadgetry, such as a silver industrial teapot shaped like the Eiffel Tower, is Hunter's favorite.

We emerge into a distinctly Miami evening, shimmering in its pistachio and lemon color palette. A sweet waft from the bougainvillea lining the streets rides happily on the air with pungent garlic aromas, an almost constant thumping of bass notes from cars and bistros; trails of rich, brewing coffee; and a mixture of sunscreen and perfume.

Just down the street, the activity is still mild at the 24-hour 11th Street Diner, a 1948 art deco dining car that serves as a comfort-food stop for Miami's late-night partiers. Two sunburned thirty-somethings with small children are tucked into a booth next to four leathered, tattooed, and pierced young men preparing to launch into the sultry Miami night.