Wait, What Did You Just Say?

Wait, what did you just say?

The home security camera I'd ordered with points finally arrived, and I finished installing it.

As a test, I figured I'd try recording the hours our family spent asleep tonight.

Reni, already changed into his soft pajamas, padded over with curious eyes.

"Daddyyy, what's that? A snowman?"

Come to think of it, the round camera head and body did look an awful lot like a snowman.

"It does look like a snowman, but it's a camera. See the lens here?"

"Yeah."

"I bought it so we can record us sleeping at night."

"Ohhh, okay."

Thankfully, Reni's famous Why? only kicked in for things he was genuinely interested in. He didn't ask anything more—just turned around, climbed back onto the bed, and went straight back to playing peekaboo with Luca.

"Luca! Peek-a-boo!"

"Kyaaaah…!"

With a cushion as their divider across the bed, Reni flopped down and popped back up for peekaboo after peekaboo, until Luca laughed so hard he toppled sideways.

"Alright, our Luca. Time to sleep just like that."

"Eung-ah!"

The baby shot upright and beamed at me. Yeah, okay—Dad got a little too ambitious there.

I rolled onto my side and watched their peekaboo game for a while. After about ten more rounds, Reni seemed worn out; he rested his head against the cushion and giggled. Luca copied his big brother, resting his own head on the cushion and laughing right along.

They were so adorable I snapped a photo, then seized the moment and laid each of them down in their proper spots.

"Eung…"

Luca put up one last fight, but it was hopeless. I took the chance to stroke his hair, adding a little extra warmth—my secret formula for putting him to sleep.

"Oh my, look at our baby. Your eyes are already half closed."

"Mm…"

I patted his body until his eyes shut completely. Of course, I went over and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did the exact same thing for Reni, who had been watching the whole scene with drowsy eyes. I pressed a soft kiss to the forehead of the giggling boy. Even the smallest affection made him light up with joy.

Pat, pat.

Under the steady rhythm of my hand, his eyes drifted shut, then fluttered open again.

"Reni."

I whispered to the boy hovering on the edge of sleep. Giving him something to think about usually helped him drop off even faster.

"…Mm."

"When Daddy has time, I'll make you a doll. Is there a doll you'd like to have?"

"…A doll?"

"Yeah. Like Luca's little bear. I'll make our Reni a pretty doll of his own. What would you like?"

"…Seal."

"Hm? Seal?"

"…Yeah. Seal."

Leaving behind that half-understood word, Reni sank into deep sleep. I'd have to ask again tomorrow. I stroked his hair a few more times, then lay down myself. After replaying the day's events and jotting a single line in my notebook, I drifted off thinking about the healthy meals for the kids Evan had mentioned before he left.

"Aung-ah!"

Smack!

"Whoa—Luca, you can't hit Daddy!"

"Kyaak!"

Smack!

"Lucaaa…!"

"Mm, it's okay. Daddy's up…"

Dodging the baby's fierce little slap attack, I buried my face in the pillow. A moment later, Luca started patting the top of my head with soft little thumps.

"Luca, that hurts Daddy!"

"Aung-ah!"

Even Reni's carefully stern voice had zero effect on him.

"Daddy's up."

Before the two of them could actually start fighting, I sat up—and Reni dove into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my arms faster than Luca could.

"Daddyyy. Terrace. Let's go to the terrace. Walk. Morning walk."

"…Yeah."

The child who could talk was far more effective at waking Dad than the one who couldn't. Holding both boys, I spun slowly around the terrace under the warm morning sun.

"Wooow…!"

I set a bowl of jello in front of Reni, each jewel-bright piece gleaming like pomegranate seeds. The boy grabbed his spoon with gusto and scooped up a cold bite. The sweet, tart, icy jello made him squeeze his eyes shut, clench both fists, and give a full-body shiver of delight. It was impossible not to laugh.

"That good?"

"Yeah!"

Watching all this, Luca grabbed my hand.

"Ah-ah!"

Right—whatever big brother knows, our Luca has to do too, doesn't he? I scooped a tiny bit of jello and slipped it into Luca's mouth.

"Ptew."

"Aigoo."

Not a fan, apparently. The second it hit his tongue he spat it right back out. I wiped his chin clean. Well, at least he'd learned that not everything his brother did was automatically good for him.

I sat the kids at the living-room table, settled onto the sofa myself, and picked up my notebook and pencil. Today I absolutely had to produce the second recipe. Healthy recipes for the kids… And while I was at it, I wanted something Reni—with his picky appetite—might actually eat, so I started looking into jello-related recipes. If I happened to snag a recipe idea along the way, even better.

"Hmm…"

Koreans who mixed gochujang into just about anything had always struck me as a little unhinged, but Americans, it turned out, were not entirely right in the head either. Among the various recipes that scrolled past, one caught my eye: jello salad. Literally jello with the carrots and beans you'd put in a salad. That one I could almost forgive. But no matter how I looked at it, this couldn't be right, could it? Jello packed full of green vegetables looked like glossy, springy food waste. There were even versions with meat and shrimp in them. Was this real life…?

I dug into the origins of these unbelievable monstrosities and learned that in 1950s–60s America, the fashion had been to shove just about anything into gelatin. …Well. If people ate it for a decade, it must have been edible somehow? Same way gochujang chocolate gets sold because someone, somewhere, finds it palatable. But I had a duty to protect my family from culinary crimes, so I set my phone down fast.

Instead I started listing the elements of food Reni would like. First: it had to look pretty—shape and color. Reni was a sensitive child. He knew how to find beauty and appreciate it. The kind of kid who could trail a raindrop sliding down the window with his finger and say, The rain is pretty. Was that just what happened around age four—sensibility blooming? Though no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture Luca looking at a raindrop and calling it pretty even if he lived to forty…

Anyway. He was still a child, so he preferred primary colors over pastels. That made brightly colored fruit like berries the easiest starting point. Raspberry heart-shaped jello for red. Orange-juice star-shaped jello for yellow. Blueberries… those would come out more purple than blue, but maybe that was fine.

"…But this has zero originality."

Fruit jello was common—and just as varied. I couldn't call something like that my recipe. That meant pivoting toward jello cake. But jello cakes already had plenty of recipes too, and those were desserts, not something you could reasonably feed a child as a meal substitute—fruit and cream were the main event. Something that could stand in for a meal… Salad jello?

I started to shove the salad-jello idea back out of my head—then hesitated. At least the keyword vegetables was worth keeping. Mixed green jello looked awful, but what if I used white vegetables instead? The first white vegetable that came to mind was cauliflower, of course. And cauliflower didn't only come in milky white—there were yellow, purple, and pale green varieties too. If I pureed colorful cauliflowers and turned them into jello, wouldn't that look better than jello full of raw vegetables? Blending in berries of matching colors would be even better. Then I'd have both vegetables and fruit… And if I was thinking of this as a meal, I couldn't leave out carbs. Carbs… Ah.

What if I made a biscuit loaded with the kabocha squash Reni loved? Pour the jello over a dense cake sheet…

"Yes, Kelly. It's a cauliflower-berry puree kabocha jello cake for kids."

For all its grand name, the method was on the easy side. First you made kabocha cookies, crumbled them with a little butter, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠packed the mixture firmly into the bottom of cookie molds with a spoon. Then you poured the prepared vegetable-berry jello over the top and let it set in the freezer overnight. Done.

"I made them in shapes like stars and clouds, in all different colors, and the kids really loved them. Nutritionally they're solid, too."

Reni hadn't even stopped midway—he'd eaten every last bite with determination. Right now, right in front of me, he was beaming as he worked his way through a star-shaped jello cake.

"I think it would be great for kids who are picky or get bored at mealtimes. Even with less sugar, the natural sweetness of the kabocha and berries is enough. Plus the bouncy texture makes eating feel like a game…"

The recipe passed. Kelly said it sounded wonderful and asked me to send some of the jello cake along to Evan. She also interviewed me about how I'd come up with a recipe that could double as dessert and a meal.

"Yes, of course. I think it's fair to say I became a completely different person—almost a full one-eighty."

"That sounds like a great idea, too. Thank you, Kelly. I'll think on it a little more."

Kelly and I hung up on the warmest of notes. Coming up with the second recipe had taken time, but at least a solid result had come out of it. That was a relief.

"Aigoo, Luca."

While I'd been absorbed in the call, Luca had been mashing the jello with his tiny hands, treating it like a sensory toy.

"This is for eating, not for texture play."

He couldn't possibly understand, but I scolded him anyway, cleared the bowl, and wiped his hands and mouth with a clean cloth. At least he hadn't washed his face with jello or gotten it in his hair. Small mercies.

"Daddy, the jello cake is so good. Please make it every day."

"Alright. If I'd known our Reni would eat it this well, I would have made it sooner."

"Heehee."

"But if we only eat jello cake every day it'll get boring, so let's think together about what else might taste good, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy! That sounds great!"

"Yeah. Daddy loves Reni so much, too."

I ruffled the hair of the brightly smiling boy, then sat back down in front of Luca with proper food this time.

"Alright, our Luca needs to finish eating too, right?"

"…"

Instead of babbling an answer, Luca just stared at me… and smiled a suspiciously sly little smile.

Wait. Why. What are you planning now.

I picked up the spoon with genuine tension in front of a son who wasn't even a year old yet.

"…Our Luca, why are you looking at Daddy like that?"

When I asked carefully, Luca burst into a peal of laughter—then fixed me with those same eyes, full of mischief, staring straight through me.

What is it. You're scaring Dad.

"Our Luca, want to finish the yummy food Daddy's giving you?"

The child laughed again. Then he babbled with great energy.

"Ah-ah!"

What. That was just regular Luca. Only then did I relax a little. I scooped a fresh spoonful of jello and looked at him.

"Alright, our Luca. Come on—say ah. Time for yum—"

"Ah-ah!"

"Yeah, that's right, a—"

"Daddy!"