Come back again.

I had the day off from work.

It has become a routine for me to keep my son home from daycare on my days off so we can spend time together.

People often praise me for it, but I'm basically an indoor person with no errands to run outside, so it just happens naturally.

In the morning, we saw my wife off at the station together, and then I headed home while trying to persuade my son, who wanted to ride the train.

From there, I went back and forth between doing chores and helping my son, who kept begging me to skip the YouTube ads.

After that, we went to the park.
The park on a weekday morning was completely empty.
My son loves the red swing.
He shouted, "Red swing!" and ran toward it at full speed today, too.

It's a swing with leg holes, so it's safe and gives me peace of mind as a parent watching him.
Once he gets on, he always says, "Higher! Higher!" and begs me to push him.

After he climbed down the slide's stairs instead of sliding down, and we finished observing ants while singing the "Ants Bumping Heads" song together, we found a local community center near the park, and the little human was drawn inside as if by a vacuum.

Ignoring my attempt to just stay at the entrance, the little human spotted an Anpanman doll on the handrail inside, took off his shoes, and headed further in.

Long tables were lined up in the narrow hallway, where an elderly caretaker was doing some kind of paperwork while listening to the radio.

Beside the man were a tank with about ten large goldfish and another tank for medaka rice fish.

When I called out to my son, who loves fish, saying, "Look! There are fishies here," he was very interested and said, "Fishies!"

The man suddenly stood up from his seat and disappeared toward the office.

Oh no, I've interrupted his work.

While thinking that in the back of my mind, I was nodding along to my son, who was desperately trying to explain the fish in his own unintelligible language.

Immediately, the man's hand appeared in my field of vision from behind.
"Go ahead and feed them."
The cup the man brought contained fish food.

After explaining to my son, who was likely seeing the small BB-pellet-like fish food for the first time, that "this is food for the fish," he gave the fish some food with a grin.

"If you put your hand in too much, they might eat you."

The gentle voice of the man, who had seemed strict when we first entered, was comforting.

After feeding the fish, I noticed that there were bookshelves lined up behind the man as he worked.

History books that looked a bit difficult.
Yellowed books that had seen better days.
A mismatched collection of manga.

It was a lineup that truly felt like a community center bookshelf.
There were also picture books and illustrated encyclopedias for children, and my son, having picked up a dinosaur encyclopedia, flipped through two or three pages at a desk that was an extension of the old man's, then quietly put it back on the shelf.

The hallway continued for another two meters or so, and although it was a bit dim, I could easily see to the end.
However, to a mini-human, it seemed like a long, dark hallway.
He said, "Come on~ it's scary~ a ghost~" and struck a pose of being afraid.

"Shall we go shopping now?" I said to my son, and after thanking the old man with a "Thanks," we said goodbye.

"Come back again."

As expected, that gentle voice was comforting.

We arrived at the supermarket on our bikes while singing songs about working vehicles.
"Walk with Daddy, okay?"
There is nothing less reliable than a "Yeah" at a time like this.

As soon as we passed through the automatic doors, I firmly grasped the hand of the top runner who had started sprinting without a destination.

When we went to the bento section, the runner slapped the lid of a bento box, saying "Bam!"
I warned him, "Hey, hey, stop that!" but when I noticed the [10% off] sticker on that white fish fry bento, I thought, "Oh, not bad," and arbitrarily praised my son's discerning eye. Daddy's lunch was decided.

In the snack aisle, he begged me to buy him some gummies.
"If you eat gummies, your tummy will hurt. Let's wait until you're a little bit older."
My son nodded at this story, which had no scientific basis whatsoever, and we pinky-promised to eat gummies when he got older.

When the shopping was done, I said, "Help me out~," and had him hold the other end of the plastic bag I was carrying. Strangely, this reduced the runner's urge to run.

When we got home, my son ate the meal my wife had prepared in advance, and I ate the white fish fry bento.

By the time he finished eating, my son's mood had worsened in a gradient. He was sleepy.

After I fed him the last bite, we headed to the bedroom.

The mini-human curled up in my arms and immediately began to breathe steadily in his sleep. There was no trace of the top runner left.

While listening to the background music of his small, steady breathing, I observed him so closely I could see the fine hairs on his face.
There is no one as cute as this.

After an hour, he woke up.
It was short compared to usual, but he seemed refreshed.
Ignoring my son's pleas of "Let me down!," I took the opportunity to kiss his cheeks many times.
I couldn't help but laugh along with the sound of my son's laughter as he got ticklish.

"Is this what they call happiness?"

I thought this while apologizing to my son, whose cheeks were reddened by my stubble.

#I wish every day was like this