Our Kid Isn't Like That
I was sitting there, still turning over what to do, when Cassandra spoke without taking her eyes off the monitor.
"Jun. I'm not trying to push minimalism on you, but I want you to know that clinging to things doesn't really mean much."
"Huh?"
"At first I kept Charlie's baby clothes in storage for years too. But they just kept piling up, and I realized it wasn't sustainable. In the end I had to sort through everything. The stuff that was still in good shape I donated, and the rest I got rid of."
"Ah……"
Cassandra said that once you start raising a child, the belongings just keep multiplying no matter what.
"And if something among all that only makes you dwell on the sadness, I think it's better to let it go without hanging on. The kid won't even care, and you'll just hold onto it until you die, and then someone else will throw it out anyway, right?"
"……You've got a point."
"If the things keep catching your eye and you think it would be nice to show them to the kids later, just take photos. That should be enough."
……Would it really? Would that be enough?
I sat with it a little longer, then finally made up my mind.
Cassandra's firm words had genuinely helped me sort out my own thoughts.
The three pairs of socks Luca had never gotten to wear went home with Greg when he left for the day, for Sabrina.
The album full of memories of Reni and his family went onto the bookshelf at home, alongside the other photo albums.
"……."
This album, I decided, we would open together on some sunny afternoon, once the kids were a little older, whenever the old days suddenly came to mind.
Time dulls feelings the same way for children and adults alike.
Just as I valued the everyday life I shared with the kids now—and the future we would have together—more than longing for a family from so long ago I couldn't even remember……
It would be better for Reni, too, to fill his heart with the people he was with now and the tomorrows ahead of them, rather than with people he could no longer share his life with.
You can't move forward while looking back.
Yeah. This felt right.
Once I'd sorted through those things, my heart felt a good deal lighter.
Light enough to get through the usual war of an evening routine with my two sons without any trouble.
And then……
"Ah, ah! Mwah-bah, ooah!"
"Hyung can't understand what Luca's saying. So today hyung is going to play with the game machine."
Aigoo.
Hearing Reni answer Luca's urgent babbling so primly, I had a feeling putting the kids to bed tonight wasn't going to be easy.
Watching them squabble, I felt something that was equal parts grateful and hollow, and I couldn't quite say why.
"Bappa!"
Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere on his own, Luca whipped his head around looking for me.
But Reni wasn't backing down today either.
"Daaad! Luca always gets the game machine all to himself!"
Lately the kids' bedtime ritual was falling asleep with their fingers on the buttons of the water ring game. Normally they pressed the buttons together for a while, and then before sleep Reni would yield the game to Luca. Today, apparently, he didn't feel like it.
Maybe I should have bought two of them……
Telling Reni "You're the big brother, so let him have it" didn't sit right—he'd already given way plenty of times, and I didn't want being the older one to mean always giving things up for his little brother.
And as for Luca……
If I said, "You've had the game more nights, so today let's give it to hyung," the only words he'd catch would be "game machine" and "hyung."
Whatever I said, all that would stick in his little heart was that Dad took the game away and gave it to his brother.
That left only one option. I held out my hand to Reni.
"Reni, give Dad the game machine."
Reni handed it over with a sulky face.
Luca reached for me, but I ignored him.
If I stayed on the bed, Luca would come charging at me for sure, so I stood facing the kids instead.
With both of their eyes locked on me, I leaned back against the wall and started pressing the buttons on the game.
"……Mah-bah!"
Luca cried out with a face that said What do you think you're doing?, looking thoroughly wronged—but I ignored that too.
"Dad's playing the game?"
I answered Reni's incredulous question without any particular feeling.
"Yep. Today Dad wants to play, so Dad's playing by himself. All night long, just me."
Reni spent a solid five seconds trying to process the situation, then exploded.
"……Dad's a greedy-guts!"
He scrambled down off the bed in a hurry. He latched onto my leg and stretched his hands toward the game, but he was about ten years too early for that.
"Euuuaang-ah! Ah!"
Luca followed his brother down the steps and clung to my other leg, but……
"Yep, Luca, you're about fourteen years too early."
"Moo-bah!"
With both kids hanging off my legs, I spun slowly around the living room until their voices started to fade.
Both of them protested with everything they had, but beyond clinging tight to my legs there wasn't much else they could do.
At some point Reni seemed to find the whole thing funny and started laughing a little, and Luca, hanging on for dear life, had forgotten about the game entirely and was fighting off sleep.
When both of them were half-asleep, I set the game down, crouched, and opened my arms.
Both little guys tumbled into them at once.
The moment I held him, Luca buried his face in my shoulder and was out, and Reni mumbled something soft before drifting off too.
I walked a couple more loops around the living room before laying them down in bed, and that was when Greg sent over a photo.
The socks on Sabrina's tiny feet looked impossibly cute and sweet.
The next morning.
Clatter!
I was feeding the kids breakfast as usual when Luca, looking thoroughly cross about something, flung his spoon onto the floor.
"Luca. Dad told you not to throw your spoon."
He hadn't been doing that lately.
I scolded him lightly and bent to pick up the spoon—and this time Luca threw the bowl.
The plastic plate hit the floor with a clatter and spun in a circle.
"……."
The silver lining, if you could call it that, was that Luca never left food behind, so there wasn't much splatter.
Still, mopping was mopping.
"I really thought his table manners had settled in by now. And then he goes and does this again……"
"Eung……"
I grumbled as I wiped the floor and stood up, only for Luca to start murmuring again, his face full of pure spite about something or other.
Reni sat with a spoon in his mouth, glancing back and forth between me and Luca, reading the room.
I let out a long sigh and finished clearing the bowl and spoon.
Then I lifted the still-thoroughly-disgruntled baby out of his chair and into my arms.
"What is it, Luca? Was breakfast not tasty today? You ate every bite, though."
"Eung……!"
He sounded like he desperately wanted to yell, so I gave my upper body a little bounce and shot him a look.
And exactly three seconds later, Luca started crying in pure frustration.
"Waaaaaah!"
Only once he was thrashing all four limbs and wailing did I realize something was actually wrong.
Is he hurt somewhere?
I set him on the sofa and quickly checked him from head to toe for any injury.
I ruffled through his hair looking for a bump, stripped his clothes off top and bottom searching for bruises.
"Hweeiiing……"
As I checked him over, Luca's crying gradually quieted.
Judging by that, it didn't seem like he'd hurt himself anywhere……
"Luca, you've got a fever."
His body was warmer than usual. Maybe that was why taking his clothes off had calmed the crying a little.
But the air was cool, so I couldn't leave him undressed.
I quickly grabbed a cool-feeling shirt, wrapped him up, and held him close, rocking him gently.
While I soothed the hiccuping baby, I lifted Reni down from his chair—he'd been watching us without a word.
Reni asked with a worried face,
"Is Luca sick?"
"Yeah, Luca seems a little under the weather. But he'll be fine with Dad right here, so our Reni doesn't need to worry—let's get ready for kindergarten."
"Okay."
While Reni dressed himself and got ready, I took Luca's temperature.
It wasn't high enough to be truly alarming, and I let out a breath of relief.
"Hiiing……"
I kept stroking and patting the back of the child who was swallowing his tears with a face so pitiful and exhausted.
Like all babies, Luca sometimes ran a fever for no clear reason.
When I'd first started raising him, I used to rush to the hospital every single time……
But all the doctor ever said was that babies just do that sometimes.
"This is probably just a fever that'll pass on its own. Don't you worry, our Luca."
"……."
Whether from crying and yelling first thing in the morning, or from going from too hot to cool again, Luca quietly rested his head on my shoulder and drifted into a light sleep.
Driving with Luca in the back seat—when he might start crying again or spike a higher fever at any moment—didn't seem like a great idea.
I messaged the kindergarten teacher that Reni would be a little late, then waited at the office for Greg to arrive and asked him to take Reni in for me.
I packed Reni's bag, smoothed his hair, and said,
"I'm sorry Dad can't take you to kindergarten today. If Luca's sick I might need to go to the hospital, so just for today, can Reni understand?"
"Okay!"
Reni answered loud and clear, then took Greg's hand and marched out bravely.
And as if to prove I'd been right not to leave, Luca woke up almost immediately and started crying again.
"Hweeiiing……"
If only he could tell me where it hurt.
Watching a little one suffer and cry without being able to say a word just tore me up inside.
I wiped down his still-feverish body with a lukewarm towel, and the crying eased a little.
This time I wrapped him in a soft blanket and held him, and Luca pointed somewhere with a tiny finger.
"You want that?"
"Ung."
I handed him the blue-lidded container of paper clips he'd pointed at.
Luca held the container in one hand, examined it, and then flung it onto the floor.
Paper clips scattered everywhere.
I swallowed a sigh and next handed him the ballpoint pen he pointed at, then the eraser……
Before long the floor was a mess of office supplies, and the sigh came out on its own.
When I looked at Luca, he whipped his head away.
……Judging by the way he's pretending nothing happened, he knows he did something wrong.
I was in the middle of a silent conversation with the baby when Cassandra arrived for work.
"Whoa, what is all this?"
"I'll clean it up in a bit. Luca's not doing great today……"
Once she'd heard the whole story, Cassandra showed off her veteran-parent credentials for the second day in a row.
"Hmm…… I think I know what's going on. Is Luca maybe cutting his molars?"
Leave it to someone with experience. Checking inside his mouth hadn't even occurred to me.
I laid the baby down, opened his mouth, and sure enough—his molars were pushing up through the gums.
"What? Other kids don't get their molars until thirteen or fourteen months."
After a quick search I muttered it like I was personally offended, and Cassandra laughed.
"Every kid grows at their own pace, you know."
Following her advice that when Charlie was teething, baby fever reducer had been enough, I checked the dosage and gave Luca the medicine.
And about thirty minutes later, as the medicine kicked in, the baby's fever came down and his behavior returned to the usual Luca.
"Whew……"
"Ah-boo-ah."
I held the now-perfectly-fine baby, let out a sigh of relief, and flopped onto the playroom's latex sofa—only for Luca to mash his palm against my face.
"You little…… Do you have any idea how worried Dad was……"
"Ah-boo."
I hugged the drooling, smiling baby tight.
He'd already tossed aside the blanket and was crawling toward his toys in nothing but a diaper, so I caught him and got him dressed.
By the time I'd cleaned up everything he'd scattered, the whole morning was gone.
I finally caught my breath and made the coffee I hadn't gotten to drink that morning.
As a little self-reward I stuck a sweet cookie in my mouth and dove into a storm of searching about baby teething.
I jotted down tips about chilling a teether for him to hold, or cooling a finger toothbrush for when we brushed his teeth.
Then a parenting post caught my eye.
"Cassandra. It says babies lose their appetite when they're teething. Did Charlie do that too?"
"Oh, absolutely. He'd cry that he didn't want to eat, and when he refused so hard that I put food in his mouth, he'd spit it all out…… Luca doesn't do that?"
"Ah, um……"