Our Kid Is a Genius!
Back at the office, I played with Luca even more enthusiastically, worried he might get bored without his big brother around.
If I had to put a name to the game Luca loved most right now, it would be “Hide and Seek.”
I microwaved some flour to kill off any lingering germs, poured it into a big bowl, and buried little toys under it with a small plastic shovel so he could dig them out by hand again.
Today’s buried treasure was the red ball Luca loved most from the ball pit.
He watched me shovel with sparkling eyes, and when I smoothed the flour flat, he looked up at me with even greater anticipation.
“All right, want Luca to find the ball?”
I smiled and guided his little hands into the bowl.
Luca plopped his palms straight down into the flour. Adorable.
Looking at those tiny handprints pressed into the pure white flour, I thought I should make something with them—maybe a cup or a plate stamped with those small, precious palms.
It would be nice, too, to press his handprints every birthday until he finished growing and hang them up like framed pictures.
Soon Luca’s flour-digging hands found the ball. His eyes and mouth went perfectly round.
I brushed the dust off the ball he’d picked up, and the red color came into view.
Whatever about it was so funny, the little guy burst into peals of laughter.
I put the ball back in the bowl and covered it with flour again; this time he found it faster, with a little more confidence. The big, loud laugh was a free bonus.
Through this game, they say, a child learns object permanence—the understanding that something doesn’t stop existing just because it vanishes from sight for a moment or gets covered up.
Once he got used to that, maybe he’d completely overcome the separation anxiety that already seemed so much better.
When it felt like we’d played enough flour-hide-and-seek, I scooped some flour out and poured in water. Then I showed him how to dunk a spoon or a fork into the cloudy water and pull it back out.
Luca focused on the game with a face that looked ready to shout, “Oh, magic!” for the first time in ages.
He seemed to enjoy this even more than digging things out of the flour—being able to confirm so quickly that something right in front of him could disappear and reappear.
After playing him thoroughly tired, I fed him the lunch I’d packed from home that morning and put him down for his nap.
I watched him sleeping alone on the rattan bed he usually shared with his big brother, then left the playroom and sat down at my desk.
“…….”
Now what.
Honestly, I had more than enough work to do. I just didn’t feel like doing any of it.
I sat there gloomily with my head planted on the desk until Greg clicked his tongue.
“Come on, you’re picking Reni up in just a few hours.”
……Just a few hours? Look at this soon-to-be dad with zero paternal instinct.
“We’ll see how you feel when your daughters start kindergarten.”
“Nah, I’m not sending our kids to kindergarten.”
Cassandra shook her head hard, as if she couldn’t stand another second of our childish exchange.
“Jun. I know exactly how you feel. But speaking as someone who’s been through it—you don’t need to sink this deep. Not if you don’t want to feel betrayed later when you realize how happy you are after the kid starts school.”
“…….”
I gave her a look of pure disbelief. Was I really going to become one of those parents you see on TV, dancing for joy when summer break ends and the kids go back to school?
No way. Absolutely not.
Greg checked the time and asked,
“Luca’s eaten and asleep, right? Should we grab lunch too? Isn’t today a cooking-video day for you?”
“I don’t have an appetite. I don’t want to do anything.”
“Aigoo, enough with the energy-drain talk—go cook something already. A dad has to eat well and keep his strength up so the kids can feel secure.”
Cassandra stood up and bustled around setting up the camera for the cooking video.
“That’s true enough.”
Right. Even without energy, work still had to get done.
I fretted over what to make, then decided on something spicy—partly to revive myself, partly as petty revenge on those two slightly annoying people.
Still, I didn’t have the drive for an ambitious dish, so I picked something fast and simple. From the frozen food stocked in the office fridge, I pulled out frozen chicken.
“Today’s dish is seasoned fried chicken and cabbage salad.”
I loaded the chicken into the air fryer and started making a spicy sauce like the Korean-style seasoned chicken I’d once seen in passing. Greg poured himself a glass of milk and asked,
“So you packed Reni a lunchbox?”
“Yeah.”
And a very pretty one, at that. I’d scoured every kid’s lunchbox parents had bragged about online and combined the ones that looked the prettiest.
I hoped he’d like it.
After finishing the sauce, I made the cabbage salad and found myself thinking of Reni that morning—how earnestly he’d gotten ready.
He’d woken up on the first call, washed his face, eaten breakfast, then pulled out the clothes he’d chosen days ago and put them on himself, neatly packing both his bag and his lunch tote.
Why did that make me feel so proud and so hollow at the same time?
My face must still have looked miserable, because Greg sat down at the table and offered comfort.
“He’s a smart kid. He’ll do just fine at kindergarten.”
“Yeah, Reni will do well at anything. I’m not worried about that……. It’s just, he feels like he’s growing up too fast. And I haven’t really done much for him.”
“Hey, what do you mean you haven’t done anything for him?”
Greg looked at me like I was absurd. Cassandra waved a hand telling him to leave me alone.
I cooked in silence for a while, then transferred the finished chicken and salad into bowls and arranged them so Cassandra could shoot the insert shots easily.
Pouring cold cola into a glass, I said,
“And while we’re on the subject—isn’t kindergarten starting a little early? He’s still so small and fragile.”
To be honest, I didn’t think I’d worry the same way when Luca hit that age. But Reni was a little smaller than his peers…….
Greg immediately picked another fight.
“All the other kids there are small too. That’s the whole point of a place where kids that size go to learn.”
“Fine. We’ll see how you feel in a few years.”
“All right, all right, stop fighting and let’s eat.”
Cassandra speared pieces of chicken with a fork and shoved them into Greg’s and my hands.
Greg took one bite of the sweet-and-spicy, crispy chicken, turned bright red, and chugged his milk.
“Dude, you made this extra spicy on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Spicy? What spicy? It’s sweet and delicious.”
Greg grumbled but kept bringing chicken to his mouth. Complaints or not, it must have tasted good.
I’d set aside a separate plate of unseasoned chicken, but both Greg and Cassandra stuck exclusively to the pieces coated in sauce.
Eating something tasty did lift my mood a little.
……Truthfully, I knew I was overreacting. To the point that I wondered how I’d ever managed to live alone without the kids.
We were chatting about this and that over the meal when a delivery arrived.
It was the fabric and notions we’d ordered after deciding on the wedding dress design—Cassandra had gone to the fabric market herself for swatches, and we’d chosen together.
Just looking at the box, Cassandra’s face lit up with pure happiness.
Seeing that made me happy too. It felt like I was giving her a gift more meaningful than money ever could.
And honestly, it was good timing. Working would help soothe this hollow feeling.
After lunch, I spread the fabric and notions out wide in the workshop.
Organza silk with a soft inner glow, lace studded with beads, ribbons and beads for the floral crown—everything glittered under the lights.
We planned to film the entire wedding dress process as a series, all the way through to the wedding day video, so Cassandra started shooting with her feet practically bouncing like a child’s.
Cassandra’s measurements were already done, so I went straight to draping fabric on the mannequin and pinning.
The dress, themed “Goddess of the Autumn Forest,” was a new design that took only the best points from the few dresses Cassandra had tried on at the bridal shop.
A comfortable fit she could eat, drink, and dance in all night; an A-line falling naturally from a high neckline; a skirt with volume that wasn’t excessive—that was the basic silhouette.
Over that, beaded lace that would dazzle under the lights would be layered along the shoulder line and the hem, and for the floral crown……
Knock knock.
Cassandra rapped on the workshop door and asked,
“Jun, isn’t it almost time to pick up Reni?”
“What?”
Oh no. I checked the time—I’d already passed the moment I’d meant to leave the house. How was that even possible?
I scrambled for the car keys, scooped up Luca, and bolted out of the office. Then I made it all the way to the lobby before having to run back up for his comfort teddy bear and come down again.
“Daddy! Dadda!”
Luca called out with a sulky face, clearly unhappy with my flustered rush.
“Yeah, sorry. Daddy’s late.”
Okay. Calm down. Stay calm. It wasn’t a disaster, but being the first day made everything feel frantic.
With the miraculous driving skill the Manito App provided, I parked safely near the kindergarten and actually arrived a little early.
I let out a breath of relief, got the stroller out, settled Luca in, and walked the rest of the way.
A few other parents who’d also arrived early were standing around. I quietly joined the group and approached the classroom window.
Two teachers moved between the tables looking after the children, and Reni—completely unaware anyone was standing outside—was hard at work pasting colored paper into a sketchbook. Collage, maybe?
The moment I saw him, a small smile spread across my face without permission. It had only been a few hours.
Then the door opened softly, and Teacher Ivy called me into the counseling room.
Wondering if something had happened, I hurried after her pushing the stroller—only for her to smile and deliver good news.
“Reni did wonderfully, even for a first day. You don’t need to worry at all!”
“I see. Thank you.”
I pressed a hand to my chest as relief washed over me. But the next words made my heart drop.
“Of course, being the first day, he did look for Mom and Dad once in the middle.”
“Should I have stayed outside the whole time?”
Was that what you were supposed to do on the first day? But the teacher shook both hands and her head at once.
“Not at all! He only asked for a moment. And children get used to it quickly. They need to.”
“Yes…….”
In our prior consultation, we’d already covered Reni’s family situation, health matters like allergies, and his personality.
If someone who understood his circumstances this well said he was fine, then he was fine.
“I’ve only watched him for one day, but the child is remarkably bright.”
“Is he?”
“Yes. And kind, too. Maybe from looking after his little brother at home—he showed a real talent for leading the other children through new activities. On his very first day. That’s something special!”
“Yes, thank you.”
Clearly this woman had a completely separate kindergarten-teacher persona.
Her voice was a full tone higher than when I’d seen her at the publishing house, and her crisp, careful pronunciation felt like the product of real effort for the children.
“His understanding of color is above his peers. He’s quite good at arithmetic as well……. And most decisively, his expressive ability is outstanding—hard to believe he’s only four.”
That’s right. Our kid speaks so well. He’s so smart.
Inside, I kept nodding along like the most shameless doting parent alive, but on the outside I simply inclined my head with the bare minimum of parental dignity and said I was glad to hear it.