A Plan Just for Her
Somehow I had a feeling this would happen. The moment Reni heard about the contest being held at Bibliophile, he set his jaw with serious resolve.
Rather than lighting up with excitement, he looked determined to do well. That, I supposed, was pure Reni.
With two full months to enter, he had taken my suggestion that one page a week would be enough and was carefully drawing each one. He just refused to show me any of them. Secret, he said.
Watching him like that, I was sure it would become a wonderful memory. So I paid the entry fee myself and had contest kits delivered for Jennyfer and Tony as well.
Unlike Reni, the two of them lit up with interest and pure fun.
“Jennyfer, what are you going to draw?”
“I’m gonna draw Pink Princess’s dress, and her magic fork, and the unicorn car the princess rides around in!”
Just what kind of princess was Jennyfer’s favorite character, anyway?
While Jennyfer’s story seemed unlikely to have any beginning, middle, or end, Tony had spun a surprisingly decent tale. He was going to draw three penguins who lived at the North Pole going on a trip to Hawaii, and he even gave me a brief plot summary.
“If you’re always stuck somewhere cold, it gets boring, so going somewhere warm for a trip is better!”
“Yeah. That makes sense.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him penguins lived in the Antarctic—not when he looked so proud. Or that penguins probably shouldn’t go to Hawaii either…
Well. It was a picture book. Did it really matter?
“Reni, what are you drawing?”
At Jennyfer’s question, Reni glanced sideways at me, then leaned in and whispered something in her ear.
Still a secret from Dad, then.
I watched the kids playing happily together for a moment, then stepped away with Luca and went to talk with Sister Marisa in the living room.
“Sister, I was wondering something. Can Jennyfer read books by herself? Not hard ones—really, really easy ones.”
“That’s still a bit difficult. She can point out a few words she knows, though. Words like me, you, we, house.”
“Ah…”
No matter how I looked at it, our Reni seemed to be reading already. Wasn’t that far too early?
Things other parents might brush off with a proud “Our kid’s smart” had started making me hyper-aware.
I told Sister Marisa that Reni had recently begun reading picture books out loud on his own.
“Honestly, the picture books at home are ones we’ve read together over and over. At first I thought it was half understanding, half remembering the story from the pictures. The kid has a great memory. But after he started learning the alphabet at kindergarten, he got even more into it, so I… Ah, of course, he’s not fluent yet.”
I carefully walked back through everything he’d shown me over the past few weeks.
“These days, I really think Reni can actually read.”
It was only the simple words in picture books, sure—but still. Wasn’t that too fast?
I couldn’t hide my worry as I muttered it, and Sister Marisa smiled.
“Every child has their own pace of development, so please don’t worry too much. And truly fast children start reading as early as three.”
“…Is that so. Honestly, I was so worried I searched it online last night. That’s when I found something called hyperlexia, and I started fretting that maybe he had that.”
Hyperlexia was a condition where a child could read words remarkably well but struggled to understand sentences. Reading that many autistic children had hyperlexia had made my heart drop.
“But Reni turns five in a few months, doesn’t he? I think his calm, careful personality and the way you’ve steadily read to him have simply paid off.”
Sister Marisa’s steady words quieted the worry that had been about to spiral again.
“…Then does that mean our kid is a genius?”
She laughed again.
After talking with Sister Marisa, I put off taking Reni to a doctor for the time being—and went to confide in the second parenting expert I knew.
“Teacher, how many children at the kindergarten can read? The thing is, our Reni…”
Teacher Ivy listened for a long while, then smiled in a way that looked exactly like Sister Marisa’s.
And then she gave me the answer I wanted to hear.
“I don’t think you need to worry about Reni, Dad. There’s nothing wrong with his empathy, and I’ve often seen children around five who can read picture books on their own.”
“I see. Then since our child is still a little under five, that means he’s smart after all?”
“Reni is a child who watches his surroundings carefully and thinks before he acts. He’s definitely more mature than most kids his age.”
Teacher Ivy answered with a gentle smile.
She hadn’t said, “Reni is a genius!” so he probably wasn’t one.
Oddly enough, that was a relief.
She didn’t pursue the subject any further. Instead, she told me that Reni was working hard at kindergarten activities and joining in enthusiastically with his new buddy, and she handed me a pamphlet.
Come join the festival starting at 2 p.m. on February 14th!
Get face painting and make Valentine’s cards to give and receive.
A school festival full of sweet desserts and music!
“It’s a festival at the elementary school where Reni’s buddy goes. The kids sell cookies and bread they made themselves, and the upper-grade students put on a band performance.”
“I see.”
It sounded like an event where the school raised funds through admission and selling bread and cookies. It didn’t particularly stir my interest—until her next words made me look up.
“On one side of the booths, the drawings and paper crafts Reni made with his buddy will be on display. If you go together and take pictures, don’t you think he’d be so happy?”
“You’re right. I definitely have to go.”
“Of course, attendance isn’t required! Plenty of parents are busy during the week, and…”
“I’ll be there.”
In the old days, I wouldn’t have given a second glance to a Valentine’s festival that charged admission and then expected you to spend more money inside. But now, going was the only right answer.
“I’m glad. Actually, Reni kept saying he was going to surprise his dad, and he worked so hard at every buddy class.”
“Is that so. He used to tell me every little thing he did at kindergarten…”
Just like the contest picture book, he hadn’t said a word about the crafts for this festival either.
“He’s starting to have more and more secrets from me.”
“Please don’t think of it as him making secrets. Think of it as a child’s heart that really, really wants to hear big praise from his dad.”
The smile she wore as she said it looked exactly like Sister Marisa’s.
…Why was everyone looking at me with that faintly pitying expression?
Did I come across as that much of a doting dad?
I didn’t ask out loud. I had a feeling Teacher Ivy would nod without the slightest hesitation.
Rustle.
I portioned the heart cookies I’d made the day before into pretty little bags. Pink and red icing on cute heart shapes, with white icing patterns on top—they looked rather lovely.
It was convenient that the day I delivered desserts to James’s café happened to fall on Valentine’s Day, which made choosing the menu easy. The problem was that I’d made a bit too many while accounting for the office crew and a few others I wanted to give some to.
Since I’d already gone overboard, I packed a slightly fuller bag for Reni’s buddy, whom I would be meeting for the first time today. I didn’t know how long the buddy program would last, but I hoped they’d keep treating Reni well in the meantime.
I was dividing the last of the cookies into plastic containers when Reni crawled out of the tent without anyone waking him. Still half-asleep, he blinked a few times—then suddenly lifted his head, bright-eyed, scrambled up, and ran to me.
“Daaaad, today’s Valenta Day! Happy Vale, Valenta Day!”
“That’s right. Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, Reni.”
I knelt down, pulled him into a firm hug, and kissed the top of his head.
He still couldn’t quite say “Valentine’s Day.” So our kid probably wasn’t a genius after all.
Of course, his cuteness was genius-level.
Reni clung to my leg and raised his voice like he was about to deliver something very important.
“Daaaad, you have to come early today. We have to go from kindergarten to the festival where Seong-jun hyung is.”
“I know. Teacher Ivy already told me.”
“Oh! Okay!”
His big, bright smile pulled the corners of my mouth up with it. How could anyone be that happy?
I made a firm resolution: when I saw the crafts he’d made at the festival today, I was going to act truly, deeply moved.
I dropped my thoroughly excited child off at kindergarten and headed to work.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Greg waved hello in a pink sweater with a giant chocolate heart on it.
The words What on earth are you wearing rose all the way to my throat, but I swallowed them. Greg, who usually dressed well, would never have bought an ugly sweater like that himself. His mom or his wife must have gotten it for him.
As if he’d read my carefully restrained thoughts, Greg snickered and asked,
“What? Why aren’t you saying anything about the sweater?”
“It’s a very cool sweater. Real men wear pink.”
“This is why sharp bosses are no fun. So? Rachel bought it for me.”
“Figured. Rachel secretly likes cute stuff, doesn’t she.”
Things you never would have seen at our old company were already on full display at Rachel’s desk—even though she still hadn’t properly returned to work. Like the pink mouse and keyboard Greg had brought in for her at her request.
After dropping Luca at the playroom, I secretly handed out cookies to the staff.
“They’re so pretty. Thank you.”
Cassandra opened her bag of cookies with a happy face. I remembered how she used to take cookies home for Charlie; the thought that she no longer felt she had to do that made me glad. Of course, I’d made some for Charlie too.
“I made plenty, so take some for Charlie. I made some for Lydia and Nancy as well.”
Lydia and Nancy were Dimitri’s daughters.
“Thank you! The kids are going to love them.”
Cassandra, who was getting along with her new daughters like friends, smiled at me with genuine gratitude.
“You too. This one’s for Rachel.”
“Thanks. Rachel’s going to love it.”
“She’s probably still sad she can’t come into the office. I hope this at least helps cheer her up a little.”
“Yeah. Same as me—Rachel really loves the food you make.”
A faint shadow crossed Greg’s face as he said it. It only lasted a second, but Cassandra noticed just as sharply as I did and asked in a worried voice,
“Is Rachel not doing well?”
Greg hesitated, then answered with a small sigh.
“She seems a little depressed. She has insomnia too. These days the baby cries less, so she is getting some sleep, but…”
“Ah… Yeah. That can happen, around then.”
Cassandra nodded heavily.
Was this that postpartum depression thing? I didn’t know much about it, but even I knew it was serious.
“Maybe if she saw the wedding dress so far, even unfinished, it might lift her mood a bit?”
It was still just fabric roughly draped on a mannequin, but Cassandra herself had been delighted the first time she saw the wedding dress fabric alone.
Greg gave a small smile and shook his head.
“It would probably make her more depressed right now. She’s dieting, actually.”
Oh no.
Even the short-term diet before Cassandra’s wedding had been hard enough. I didn’t need to see it to know how brutal a diet would be while caring for a newborn.
“I keep trying to think of something that might help, but no clever plan’s coming to mind.”
Greg quietly went on, fiddling with the cookie bag in his hands.
“I suggested we go to the hospital, but medication isn’t really an option right now, and she flatly insists she doesn’t have postpartum depression.”
A heavy silence settled for a moment.
Then one idea suddenly cut through my mind.
“Greg. About Rachel—what if she came into work starting as soon as tomorrow?”