He's Sulking
He's sulking.
At Luca's sharp demand that I get up already, I finally hauled myself out of bed.
Even after washing my face and starting on breakfast, the dazed feeling refused to fade.
Cracking eggs into the frying pan only made last night's dream come back all the more vividly.
Seriously—of all the things in the world, why did I have to fly on that? Don't people usually ride a bed or something?
Having a dream that weird probably meant last night's live stream had been weighing on me more than I wanted to admit.
"……."
Still… I'd done pretty well, hadn't I?
I was standing there alone, giving my own shoulder a little self-congratulatory shrug, when Luca started banging on the tray attached to his chair, calling for me.
"Daddyyy!"
"Yeah, yeah. Coming, coming. Breakfast delivery service, right this way."
I set a bear-faced bowl loaded with warm scrambled eggs, broccoli, and carrot bread in front of our little prince.
Luca stuffed his cheeks until those soft white rounds puffed out like little dumplings, then chewed with determined little chomps.
Mid-bite, he happened to catch me watching him and broke into a cute eye-smile.
"Luca, is breakfast yummy?"
"Yeah."
He nodded, then grabbed his water bottle and gulped it down.
Moments like that made it feel like he really understood every word I said.
"Last night in Daddy's dream, our son was talking so well."
"Yeah."
"Luca, try saying something a little longer."
"Yeah."
"Right. A dream's just a dream."
While the kid took his sweet time eating, I polished off half a baguette and an apple for my own breakfast, then glanced at my phone—only for Luca to call me again.
"Daddy!"
He waved his spoon like he was demanding seconds.
"All done? Then no more breakfast for now. Let's go open a present over there first."
The second I took his bowl and lifted him out of the chair, his face went all sulky.
Only for a moment, though. The second I led him over to the glittering tent and pressed a wrapped gift into his hands, he was completely captivated.
Luca worked his tiny fingers with fierce concentration, rustling and tearing at the wrapping paper.
"Look at our Luca, getting so good at unwrapping!"
"Yeah."
And when his favorite snacks tumbled out of the gift he'd worked so hard to open, his reaction was pure transparency—corners of his mouth curling up, feet stomping in excitement. Could anyone look happier?
"Cookie."
"Yep, cookie. Look at that—Luca got cookies for a present."
The clumsily wrapped gift package had come apart with a little effort, but peeling open the actual snack packaging was still beyond Luca.
I took the cookies from his hands and tore the wrapper for him.
"Dessert. It's dessert."
"Yeah."
Luca seized the half-opened cookies and munched away, looking for all the world like he was finishing an interrupted meal. The kid ate with such wholesome appetite it was almost impressive.
"Daddy wants some too."
I stretched my legs out comfortably on the thick rug and leaned back against the sofa. Sharing the kid's cookies with a cup of coffee somehow made everything feel luxurious.
Kids' snacks really were something else—mild, almost plain, and yet weirdly delicious. Now I understood why Oliver was always snatching the children's treats.
Then Luca, finished with his cookies, flung the wrapper away with a flick.
"No, Luca."
I was tempted to just leave it and clean up later—getting up felt like too much work—but this was the kind of thing you had to teach early, or you'd regret it later.
"Okay, Luca. This is trash. When you're done eating, the leftover wrapper goes in the trash can."
I guided his little hand to hold the cookie bag, then scooped him up and carried him to the kitchen where the trash can lived.
"Okay, right here—whoosh. Wow, good job!"
I tossed the bag into the trash with a flourish and praised him in an exaggerated, theatrical voice.
"……."
Ignoring the blank stare of a child watching his father's one-man show, I went back for my own leftover wrapper and repeated the whole performance.
"Whoosh. Wow, good job! All clean now, right?"
"……."
Luca stared hard at the trash can.
"Yep, this is a trash can. The place where trash goes. Next time, we throw our trash in here, okay?"
"……."
This time he stared straight at me, and the look in his eyes said, What on earth is this dad doing? I suddenly felt a little sheepish.
The next day, after a leisurely day alone with Luca.
In the early morning I carried a cup of coffee out onto the terrace and breathed in the crisp air for a moment.
Even for a Friday morning, not just our neighborhood but the whole city felt quiet.
Everyone must have taken vacation time, right?
But thanks to a few die-hard employees who insisted on coming in today, I had to go to work too.
Not that it meant much more than changing clothes and heading downstairs.
I woke Luca, fed him breakfast, and dressed him in the pretty red sweater we'd given him for Christmas.
Since we were only going one floor down, I skipped the coat, held him close, and stepped into the elevator.
"First day back at work in three days. Right, Luca?"
"Yeah."
Apparently happy about the rare outing, Luca bounced his feet against me in my arms and smiled a little.
Being first in, I flipped on the office lights and opened the windows.
After a quick airing-out and a light tidy of every corner, I set Luca down in the playroom.
He seemed delighted to see the office playroom toys again after so long.
Crawling and walking on his own, he bustled all over the playroom like he owned the place.
I was watching him when Greg and Cassandra arrived at almost the same time.
"Morning!"
"Have a good Christmas?"
It felt good to see my friends' bright faces as they came in with cheerful greetings.
We each grabbed our coffee cups, gathered around the island table, and launched into a quick meeting.
"So how was the response to the live stream the other night? Pretty solid, right?"
Cassandra set out a plate of Christmas fruitcake she'd brought from home, her face glowing with satisfaction.
"Yeah. When I checked later, almost ten thousand people had watched."
Honestly, the number alone didn't quite land for me.
Was ten thousand viewers for a live stream really that many when you had five hundred thousand subscribers?
But looked at another way, it meant nearly ten thousand people—subscriber count aside—had spent that time with me in real time.
From that angle, it was a pretty enormous number.
"And you got a decent amount of donations too. Man, how did you even think to go live that day? I'm proud of you. Ah, but more than anything else……"
Greg let the sentence trail off, then twisted his head toward the playroom doorway and snorted a laugh.
"Luca's little smooooch attack was probably the real MVP."
We all had to snicker, remembering that moment.
"I think doing more live streams would be good. What about late-night broadcasts? If people know there's a regular schedule, they start looking forward to it. You know—like, before bed, I always watch this guy's videos."
"That…… hmm. Would people really want to look at my face right before sleep?"
"Of course. The stats say so. You can already guess that plenty of people end their day by putting on one of your videos."
"That so."
I answered a little awkwardly to Greg's unusually sharp analysis.
I thought the same thing, if I was honest.
But accepting a conclusion drawn from hard data with a clear head was somehow a different matter entirely.
"Anyway, the first live was a success. I'll get the edit done without dragging my feet and upload it today. How about doing another one on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day?"
"Timing-wise that sounds great. I'm just not sure what the theme should be."
"Oh—then what about this?"
What had started as a light conversation was turning into a proper heated meeting when a video call came in from Sister Marisa.
"Must be Reni."
I answered with a light heart.
If something serious had happened, she would have made a regular call or sent a text—not a video call.
Was she calling to ask me to pick him up today?
Or maybe he just had something he wanted to show off.
Except……
"Hello……?"
When the video connected, I was looking at the back of a child's head.
Judging by the angle, the phone had been propped up on the living room coffee table, facing the sofa.
"Reni, your dad picked up."
Even at Sister Marisa's words, Reni didn't turn toward the phone. Instead he gave an exaggerated little heave of his shoulders and crossed his arms.
Oh no. Our Reni was sulking.
Greg and Cassandra, watching the screen beside me, were silently dying of cuteness.
I bit back a laugh of my own and waited calmly for the kid to say something.
His hair was a little mussed and he was still in pajamas—so he'd only just woken up. How had he gotten this cross already?
But even after a stretch of waiting, not a single word came.
I called gently to the child who wouldn't tell me why he was upset.
"My boy, did you sleep well?"
A little jolt of his small shoulders was the only answer.
When he almost glanced sideways and then turned his head away again, the glimpse of Reni's adorable cheek made my heart itch with fondness.
"Daddy really missed our Reni. Did Reni not miss Daddy at all?"
Another little jolt of the shoulders. The kid heaved both of them once more and made a show of crossing his arms again. Adorable.
"Then should I hang up? Maybe Reni doesn't even want to hear Daddy's voice?"
"……Th-that's not it!"
Still facing away, Reni slapped the sofa in protest, voice thick with injustice.
"Daddyyyy!"
Greg silently cracked up beside me, clutching his stomach.
"Yesterdaaay you didn't even call! And you didn't come pick me uuup…!"
It had been two days since I'd dropped him off at the church. He'd spent two nights there like usual, so he'd probably expected me to come get him today. Clever little thing.
I bit my lip against a laugh at his wounded grumbling and asked in my usual voice,
"Ah, I see. Then should Daddy come pick you up right now?"
Still without turning around, the kid gave a big nod. Then he shouted,
"No!"
The startled cry of someone whose heart and actions had just lined up a second too late.
That belated refusal lost all its force the moment it left his mouth.
Desperately holding in my laughter, I put on a dejected voice.
"Ah… so Reni wants to stay at the church a little longer?"
"……."
"But Daddy really misses Reni. Can I come get you today?"
After what looked like a moment of processing my words, Reni gave a single nod.
Was that a yes or a no?
Obviously he meant for me to come pick him up—but I decided to plead a little more for him to please come home.
"Actually, Reni has to come home before we can open the Christmas presents. You still haven't unwrapped the ones from Uncle Greg and Aunt Cassandra."
Reni nodded with fierce enthusiasm and smacked the sofa a couple of times with a sharp slap.
The more he thought about it, the more unfair it seemed to him.
"Then Daddy will come get you right now? Daddy misses our Reni so, so much."
I smiled and checked one more time, and Reni nodded again.
Even that simple little gesture was enough to show his heart had softened a bit.
I said goodbye to Sister Marisa, told her I'd be there in about an hour to pick him up, and ended the call.
"Hahaha!"
Greg finally exploded with the laughter he'd been holding in, and Luca poked his head out of the playroom to see what was going on.
I laughed too and stood up from my seat.
"Well then—I'll go pick up our eldest prince."