9. An Ordinary Diary [Peace is a World for Two]
In the morning, my eldest daughter woke up earlier than anyone else and woke me up.
My second daughter and my wife were still asleep, with no sign of waking up.
"Nobody else would wake up, so I couldn't wake up either, Daddy!"
Listening to her, it seems she had been awake for even longer.
But since everyone else was still asleep, it seems she quietly waited for someone to wake up.
Wait, weren't you the one who woke me up?
I decided not to point that out, and we left the bedroom just the two of us.
The room was still cold.
I turned on the heater and the electric carpet.
Then, as I sat cross-legged, my daughter, still looking sleepy, leaned against my lap.
"I want to watch Bluey."
My daughter loves Bluey.
We have it recorded, so she watches it twice a day.
With my daughter on my lap, we watched Bluey together.
It was the episode where the dad is trying to get takeout from a Chinese restaurant and is desperately struggling while being pushed around by Bluey and Bingo.
I really get this feeling.
Dads always seem to end up in this kind of role.
While admiring how accurately Bluey depicts a dad, I suddenly think to myself.
How long has it been since I spent a morning this peacefully with my eldest daughter?
Usually, my second daughter is here, and Mom is here too.
My second daughter loves her big sister.
She always wants whatever her sister is playing with, and when she doesn't get to borrow it, she cries.
Once my second daughter gives up and starts playing with a different toy, her sister then takes that toy away.
And then, my second daughter cries again.
I am always...
Saying things like, 'Let's play nicely!' or 'Let her borrow it!'
Or, 'Don't take things that other people are playing with!'
My days are filled with nothing but these kinds of warnings.
By the time we finished watching Bluey, the room had warmed up nicely.
We decided to have breakfast together, just the two of us.
As I was getting things ready, my daughter, sitting at the table, started playing by herself.
'Tap, tap, tap.'
My daughter was tapping her right hand on the table.
It looked like she was pretending to cook.
I joined in and said,
'Alright, now I'm going to cook a big fish.'
I join in the pretend game, acting as if I have a fish about 40cm long.
"First, we scale it—scrape, scrape."
"Scrape, scrape!" *Grin*
"Now, we cut off the head. Thump!"
"Thump!" *Grin*
"Now, we remove the guts."
"Oh, there was a baby inside its tummy!"
"Oh! Then let's put it back."
"Stick the head back on, too."
"Let's put it back in the sea!"
"Bye-bye!"
"Hey, isn't dinner ready yet?"
"Ah, sorry, sorry."
We played around with exchanges like that.
After the meal, I brewed some drip coffee and sat down to drink it.
Looking out the window, a strong wind was blowing.
Where should I take the kids today?
Seeing that I had started to relax, my daughter seemed to have begun drawing by herself.
Watching her back, I take a sip of coffee and suddenly think.
There are no babies in the fish's belly.
Before long, I hear the footsteps of my wife and second daughter waking up.
I gulp down the rest of my coffee.
And before my second daughter starts playing with the dishes, I'll clear the table.
Ah, it's going to be a busy day today, too.