A story about my daughter recently.

My daughter is doing tablet-based learning. Each day, she is given about three 'Today's Missions' to complete, and if she clears them, she gets a reward or something like that.

The content varies. The early ones were quite easy, but recently they've become a bit more difficult. Even so, among them, picture books are something my daughter likes relatively well.

Since I'm supposed to be watching her with the tablet, I checked the lesson for the day. It was an English version of Momotaro. Even for an adult, it was intriguing. Before I knew it, my daughter and I were both drawn into the screen, watching intently.

There's no need to go out of my way to tell the story of Momotaro itself. But this is a modern tablet, so there are all sorts of gimmicks. When the old woman picks up the peach and returns home, an arrow appears with the instruction, 'Swipe vertically.'

My daughter traces it with the stylus in her hand. Then, Momotaro is born from the peach. Everything was fine up to this point. But the next moment, the story took a sudden turn because I said something unnecessary.

'You know, I get that Momotaro comes out, but why isn't there any peach pulp or seeds inside this peach?'

'It's a representation, so that's just how things are in picture books and stories.'

I don't know why, but I felt a sense of discomfort. It certainly is a representation. It's not wrong, and it's a fact. Yet, a chilling coldness, as if someone had dropped ice down my back, washed over me.

For now, I just settled it by saying, 'Well, that's true, it's a representation.'

On another day, I was playing hand games with my daughter.
I made a 'scissors' sign with my hand and pinched her wrist, saying, 'Snip-snip.'
My daughter said,

'Daddy, that's a representation, right?'
'Yeah, that's right, it's definitely a representation.'

My daughter said quietly,
'...I'm glad.'

What would have happened if I had said it wasn't a representation back then?
Such emotions swirled in my heart.

Even now, this vague, uneasy feeling hasn't left me.

My daughter sometimes says very mature things. For example, when a close friend she loved moved away due to her parent's job transfer, she said, 'It's okay, because in my heart, we haven't said goodbye, so we're always together and I can see them whenever I want.'

I have a feeling that there is something about this child that doesn't fit into categories like boy or girl. And I spend my days accepting that, even if I don't fully understand it.

By the way, she went to bed a little later than usual yesterday.
When that happens, in our house, we always call upon the character from 'Who's Awake?'

'Oh, maybe the one from "Who's Awake?" is coming toward the station.'

When I said that, my daughter said, 'Noooooooo,' buried her face in her pillow, and soon drifted off to sleep.

'Thanks for your hard work today.'
I said that and looked at my wife.

Her sleeping face is adorable beyond words.
It seems that for my daughter, 'Who's Awake?' is not yet a 'representation'.

No, or perhaps—.

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