Yogurt Training in the Shadows
Kindergarten assistant? It was downright embarrassing to even call it that. To truly qualify as an assistant, you had to be able to work both body and mind at the same time. So this was... just some light early education.
“When I grow up, I wanna marry Taeyang!”
Even that felt like half a failure. After nearly thirty minutes of brainwashing, it all boiled down to marriage. I stroked the head clinging to me, smiling. The frustration of her not getting it took a backseat to how damn cute she was.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get married.”
It wouldn’t happen overnight, after all. Still, it beat reading picture books—time flew by, so I was pretty satisfied.
“But to get married…”
“Eek! Taeyang’s gonna marry me!”
Just as I opened my mouth, another girl butted in. In a place this open, one-on-one lessons were tough. No way I could handle two at once.
I shooed the new girl away and took the original one out of the ball pit. Between the sparsely populated bookshelves, surrounded by unread books, the odds of anyone showing up were next to zero. The next hour was our private little hideaway.
I sat her down in the secluded corner and plopped my butt opposite her. Then I pulled something from my pocket.
“You know what this is?”
Slim waist, seductive hue, that distinctive weight. No drug could be more stimulating to a four-year-old. Today’s snack: yogurt.
Sure enough, her eyes went wide as saucers.
“Wha—what? Yoguht!”
She slapped both hands over her mouth like she’d spilled some huge secret. Patience—was there a word more alien to four-year-olds? They’d chugged every last one at snack time, so this was the only yogurt left in the kindergarten.
I shook the yogurt lightly between thumb and forefinger. Her eyes followed it obsessively, pupils wobbling in sync.
“Want it?”
“Yes!”
I twisted my lips into a smirk. I’d always loved teasing people—had to fix that personality flaw someday.
I slipped the yogurt back into my pocket.
“Nah.”
Her face drained of color at my firm refusal. If this were a cartoon or game, there’d be a thunderbolt crashing down on her head with a kaboom.
After groaning for a bit, she blurted out,
“T-Teacher said! We hafta share yummy stuff with fwiends!”
Selling out the teacher, huh? Once her head clears up a bit, she’ll sell me out too. I mimicked her lispy tone convincingly. This was exactly the response I wanted.
I lowered my voice to a sly whisper, slipping my hand into my pocket like I’d pull it out any second.
“So, wanna share?”
“Yeah!”
“Then go call the other kids. We’ll all share.”
“Wha—huh? Uh…”
She glanced around in rare confusion, her true feelings laid bare. It was kinda funny. She didn’t want to call the others, obviously. She’d argued for fair sharing to snag some from me, but no way she’d risk her share shrinking.
She grabbed my sleeve and tugged hard.
“Just us…. Let’s eat….”
Pure, unfiltered selfishness and greed from a four-year-old. Stimulate desire, tease selfishness, poke at guilt. All with a 300-won yogurt. Hilarious how it shook her little emotions.
Of course, I had no intention of calling the others.
I pulled the yogurt out again.
“If you don’t want that, fine. Just us then.”
“Yay!”
“But it’s gotta be our secret, okay?”
She nodded furiously instead of answering, probably scared even a loud reply would draw attention.
I carefully peeled off the foil top. The orange sugar water sloshed, ready to spill at the slightest shake.
And instead of drinking or feeding it to her first…
“Ah!”
No wonder she yelped. I’d plunged my finger right into the bottle’s mouth.
Not just dipping it quick—I soaked my whole index finger. Hands were clean, nails trimmed short, of course.
I pulled it out, glistening with yogurt, and held it out.
“Here, you first.”
She’d never imagined sharing like this. Her face scrunched in hesitation. But that sweet, sticky scent right under her nose? Irresistible. Especially with the snack-time yogurt still lingering on her tongue and memory.
It wasn’t that hard. Kids lick spills off their hands anyway. Probably convincing herself of that.
Betray her friends for this chance, then waste it over a little ickiness? No way.
Without even knowing what emotion this was, her cheeks flushed as she parted her lips shyly. A pink tongue peeked out between red lips.
They say sweetness hits the tongue tip best—wonder if that’s true?
Her tongue flicked out, lapping at my finger. First time’s the hardest; second’s easy. Thinking it was just candy, her licks sped up.
My index finger, sticky with sugar water moments ago, now glistened with something else under the fluorescent lights.
I pulled it back, and she stared blankly, forgetting to retract her tongue.
Drunk on yogurt sweetness for now—but not for long.
“More?”
“Yes!”
I dipped and withdrew again. The sticky sugar wasn’t pleasant, but I had a living wet wipe right here.
Slurp—smack—her tongue work was already smoother.
Last time it was just licks; now she opened wide and engulfed my finger.
Sluuuurp—schlurp—like sucking a tasty lollipop, her tongue thrashed wildly. She was going at it like she’d swallow my finger whole.
No yogurt taste or smell left—how much longer would she keep sucking?
Time to pull out.
—Right then, a sharp sting at my fingertip.
“Ow!”
I yanked it free; a perfect little ring of teeth marks on the first knuckle. She looked shocked, speechless.
Probably got too into it.
“Phew…”
I rested my other hand on my hip, feigning anger. She looked ready to burst into tears.
Head bowed, she mumbled a crawling apology.
“S-sowwy.”
I wasn’t mad—not even annoyed. If anything, it was cute. But I didn’t let that show.
I deepened my stern voice.
“You really sorry?”
“Yeah…”
I set the yogurt aside gently and pulled her teary-eyed head into my arms. Faint shampoo scent from her crown.
“Then will you do me a favor?”
She peeked up, meeting my eyes.
“Uh, yeah…”
Her eyes, brimming like they’d spill at a touch, made me chuckle despite myself. I grabbed the yogurt again.
This time, instead of my finger, I dumped it all into my mouth. Then wordlessly cupped her soft cheeks—like squishing mochi.
Guessing what came next, she slowly closed her eyes, still locked on mine.
More precocious than me. Power of drama?
Anyway, I leaned in to meet expectations.
Mwah—too chaste for a kiss, just a peck. But sweet as hell.
*
As dusk fell, the kindergarten shuttle pulled up at the apartment complex entrance. Staring blankly out the window, I spotted Dad in the distance and smirked.
Told him he didn’t need to come.
I pried off the kids clinging like glue and stepped out. Ahyeon, beside me, gripped my hand until I stood.
Well, more like I was trapped, really.
As I stepped over her lap, she whispered low, just for me, grabbing my pants pocket.
“...Can’t you stay?”
I chuckled and ruffled her hair.
“Play tomorrow too.”
Leaning close, I blew in her ear.
“Just us.”
Her face turned beet red at that. She just nodded, head down.
Then she got off quietly.
“Bye, Taeyang~”
The teacher bowed slightly, waving. I bowed back.
“Thanks for your hard work.”
My nonchalant attitude toward my age was already kindergarten legend. She smiled and waved without missing a beat.
Then I chatted with Dad about the day—of course, that stayed secret.
“Taeyang! Bye!”
“See ya tomorrow!”
Some kids stuck heads out open windows. I barely hung out with them—why the popularity?
Not stone-cold, though, so I waved lightly.
“Dangerous—pull your heads in.”
They obeyed, ducking inside.
Maybe this was the real assistant gig?
Teacher was done waving. Shuttle pulled away; Dad offered his hand.
“Let’s shop on the way home, son.”
Not rebellious enough to smack it away. I took Dad’s hand obediently.