Thump-Thump
Thump-thump.
“Kyaaaaaah!”
“This one’s mine!”
“Hold on! I want the blue one!”
Fifteen kids tore through the classroom in every direction. I stood frozen in the middle of it all, taking a quiet moment to reflect on my life choices.
Who am I? Where am I…?
Then, at some point, Mr. Daniel started counting down.
“All right, everyone. Ten seconds left! Grab the clothes you want and sit in your seats within ten seconds! Ready—ten! Nine! Eight…!”
“Uwaaah!”
“Kyaaak!”
The kids filled those ten seconds with shrieks and laughter, then somehow managed to snatch up the outfits they wanted and drop into their seats.
“Is everyone sitting? Good. Today Reni’s dad is going to show us how to make our clothes. Dad?”
“Ah—yes…”
I dragged my half-soulless body forward again.
Fifteen pairs of eyes boring into me was a lot of pressure, but I pulled myself together and took out the patterns I’d brought from home along with the matching bundles of cut felt.
Reni’s idea for the Halloween costumes was simple: just like when they’d decorated their own slime dolls with stars and hearts, each child would make their own unique outfit.
Cookies, maple leaves, hearts, stars, cars…
I handed out sheets of large printed sticker paper and bundles of felt, explaining as I went.
“First, pick a picture you like and cut it out with scissors. Then stick the sticker onto the felt fabric…”
Even after everyone had their patterns and cloth, the kids just stared up at me with wide, blank eyes.
I remembered all over again that kids learn better from a demonstration than from words alone. I picked up the scissors.
“I’m going to cut out this star shape. Like this…”
The soft snip-snip of the scissors made their eyes light up. In no time every child was choosing a pattern and attacking it with scissors of their own.
“I’m done!”
“Okay, then shall we wait a little for the friends next to us to finish?”
Once every last child had finished cutting, I peeled the sticker backing and pressed the star firmly onto a yellow piece of felt.
The classroom erupted into chaos again, as expected.
The kids held colorful felt against their cutouts, completely absorbed in choosing exactly the shade they wanted.
At last I could relax a little and watch them with a warm smile. To adults it might seem like nothing special, but the careful, fascinated way they chose each piece was endlessly adorable. It made me wonder if I had ever been like that myself—though of course I barely remembered my own toddler years.
“All right, once your stickers are stuck, we’re going to cut the fabric again. Like this…”
After my second demonstration the kids bent over their scissors once more. Each of them eventually held up a pretty little hand-sized shape of cloth, faces glowing with pride.
“When you’ve finished cutting, attach a piece of Velcro tape to the fabric like this, then stick it onto the clothes like so…”
Click.
A tiny star settled right in the center of a blue shirt, and the kids cheered.
“Waaaah!”
“It’s pretty!”
“I want to do it too!”
I passed out pre-cut lengths of Velcro tape to Mr. Daniel and the children. The kids immediately set to work adding their first decorations to their outfits.
Because it was Velcro, they could peel things off and stick them somewhere else as much as they liked. Some of them happily rearranged their decorations for a while, then grabbed the scissors again and started making brand-new shapes from scratch.
“Oh, look at all of you—you’re doing so well.”
I even had enough breathing room now to offer praise. I drifted from table to table, simply watching them work.
The kids began finishing their clothes in every style imaginable. Some ignored my patterns completely and cut freehand shapes. Others, like Reni who chose only stars, cut out multiple flowers and decorated collars and sleeves with them. One child stuck to a single color; another went full rainbow.
Every single outfit, decorated in each child’s own free way, was utterly precious.
Somehow the class came to an end.
“Friends! Shall we all say thank you to Reni’s dad?”
“Thank you!”
“Thank youuu!”
Every face looking up at me was bright with joy. I answered just as happily.
“Thank you too, everyone.”
Once the goodbyes were finished, the kids noisily packed their bags and started heading home. One dashed out to the hallway where a parent waited. Another ran to a teacher to chatter about something. Still another kept talking with friends right up until the last second, completely ignoring the waiting parents…
And then one child sidled up to Reni and stage-whispered loud enough for me to hear:
“Your dad is so cool! Want to trade dads?”
Reni finished packing his bag with neat little movements and refused on the spot.
“No way!”
Thank you, son…
Escaping the dizzying conversation, I started getting ready to leave myself.
“…Uung-ah.”
Luca stretched his arms toward me, yawning like he was about to doze off. I scooped up my second son—who had waited so patiently without crying the whole time I taught—and made a quiet plea.
“You can’t sleep yet, Luca.”
You have to sleep at home so Daddy can rest a little too.
I said goodbye to the two teachers and left the classroom with the boys. As we crossed the hallway toward the parking lot, kids we passed called out greetings; I naturally met their parents’ eyes and exchanged polite nods.
I loaded the bags into the trunk, buckled the kids in, and only after I sank into the driver’s seat did I let my forehead drop against the steering wheel with a long sigh of relief.
I did it. Good job, me.
It had only been a little over an hour of class, but it felt like I’d gone for a three-hour jog.
Luca finally surrendered to his nap, but Reni was still full of energy.
“Daaad, are you tired?”
“Hm? No, I’m fine. Did you have fun today, Reni?”
The boy still wore that bright, smiling face as he nodded vigorously.
“Yeah!”
I asked carefully, nursing a tiny spark of hope.
“Good. Dad had fun too. So… shall we start going back to preschool starting tomorrow?”
“No!”
Of course. The cheerful, bouncing answer still stung a little. Strength drained out of me, but I kept smiling.
“I see. Then how about we stop by the office for a bit before we go home?”
Luca was already in dreamland, and I badly needed to hand the kids off to Greg and collapse for a nap myself.
Reni, still sparkling with energy, answered with gusto.
“Okaaay!”
“All right, let’s go.”
Before starting the car I checked my phone out of habit—and my eyes went round when I saw 1,400 bonus points sitting there.
Accumulation details:
100 points earned for creating Star-Filled Clothes.
100 points earned for creating Party Party Clothes.
100 points earned for creating Vroom-Vroom & Cookie Clothes.
…
“Whoa…”
The soft exclamation slipped out on its own.
So the Halloween clothes the kids made today also earn points, just like the slime dolls? Because it was Reni’s idea?
Once again it felt almost too easy. I offered a quiet thanks to the Manito App that kept turning me into the Best Driver, headed home, then walked into the office.
My half-dead greeting earned hollow laughs from Greg and Cassandra as they welcomed our little family.
“Did the preschool kids try to eat you alive? You’re a wreck after half a day.”
I couldn’t even answer properly—just managed a weak smile—and laid Luca in the rattan cot in the playroom. After washing Reni’s hands, feet, and face, I flopped face-down onto the play mat myself.
Greg, coming in to watch the kids, shook his head at the sight of me.
“You knew it would be like this, but I still admire your courage. Did it work?”
He meant whether Reni was ready to go back to preschool. I answered with a small shake of my head. I’d earned unexpected money, but the thing that actually mattered hadn’t moved an inch.
“Ah, well.”
“I’m going to sleep for thirty minutes. Watch the kids for me.”
With that, I let my mind go blank.
“Monkeys eat… bananas…”
“Unh.”
“Rabbits eat…”
My pitch-black consciousness slowly surfaced to the sound of the kids playing.
“No, Luca. Rabbits don’t eat cheese—they eat carrots.”
“Uung… ah!”
They were arguing over a matching puzzle of animals and their favorite foods.
“I said nooo. Look—like this. Carrot…”
I cracked one eye open. Reni was peeling the cheese piece Luca had stuck on and carefully replacing it with a carrot.
Luca’s thoroughly sulky expression was ridiculously cute. When I glanced sideways I saw Greg quietly filming the whole scene, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
Yeah. Moments like this make paying your salary worth it.
I stretched and sat up. Luca immediately crawled over with the cheese toy Reni had taken away. I settled the thoroughly wronged baby on my lap and spoke to him.
“Our Luca wanted to give the rabbit some cheese, huh?”
“Unh.”
“But big brother said no?”
“Unh.”
I tickled his side and hugged him tight; Luca forgot all about being wronged and burst into giggles.
Reni came over too, rested his head on my other knee, and peered at his brother.
“Luca, are you mad?”
“Unh.”
“Eung. You shouldn’t be mad. Big brother was just trying to teach you…”
Reni said it playfully and stretched out a small hand to tickle the sole of Luca’s foot.
“Kyaaaak!”
Luca dissolved into helpless laughter, wriggling wildly. Foot-tickling never failed—classic.
I stood up with both sons in my arms. Even a short nap had left me feeling refreshed.
“…Wait, why did I sleep so long?”
I’d thought it was just over thirty minutes, but three full hours had passed.
“Still, the sun hasn’t set yet. We can go upstairs and feed the kids now, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I said goodbye to the office crew and took the boys home.
“Okay, what should we have for dinner tonight?”
“Hmm… spaghetti!”
Reni decided after only a brief pause. Luca still didn’t get a vote on the menu, but he ate everything anyway, so it was fine.
“Sounds good. Want garlic baguette with it too?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay.”
I sat the kids in their high chairs, spread garlic butter on the baguette and slid it into the oven, then boiled the pasta while making the sauce—turning the whole process into a little dinner show.
“So, we put the tomatoes for the sauce…”
“Dad, the spaghetti can’t be spicy!”
“Ah!”
“Okay, no spicy stuff.”
Even while chatting with them I kept my hands moving, and before long I plated generous little portions.
For Reni I made the garlic baguette and spaghetti as mild as possible; for Luca I pulled out soft white baguette insides and cut the spaghetti short. Reni twirled his fork with practiced skill and neatly stuffed the noodles into his mouth. Luca, now pretty good with a spoon, scooped his spaghetti up too.
“Our babies are eating so well.”
Watching Luca pick up bread with his hands without being told, I thought how heartily and happily they ate.
After dinner we took our usual short rest, then I bathed the kids—who had run around outside and worked up a good sweat—in lukewarm water. On days we went out they fell asleep easily, so I had them down in no time and could wash myself at a leisurely pace afterward.
I was grateful we’d made it through the day safely, yet worry still lingered. I let out a small sigh as I stepped out of the bathroom—and nearly jumped out of my skin when I found Reni curled up on the cold floor right outside, dozing.
I scooped him up at once.
“Reni, why are you sitting out here like this?”
I rubbed his back, half-afraid he’d had a bad dream. The boy stirred from his light sleep, shivered from the cold, then smiled. In a small, confessional voice he said:
“Daaad… when I can’t see you, my heart goes thump-thump.”