synergetic | Every Day is Manic Monday

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Every Day is Manic Monday

In the time since Yukimura left for his work at the courts, Bunta has wrangled two small children to the store and back, washed two loads of laundry, changed a diaper, made and fed everyone lunch, played a round of cops and robbers with Keita in the back yard while Himawari napped under the shade of a bassinet, cleaned Keita's lunch off the floor after it proved not to agree with him, and put the toddler to bed for a nap after giving him a bath and a fresh set of clothes.

How in the heck is it only 2.

Well, no slowing down yet! The baby is up and the kitchen still needs to be cleaned up from lunch, just in time to start prepping for dinner. There's meat to thaw, vegetables to chop, dough to make so it has time to rise, and of course dessert to think about it.

After another diaper change, he puts Himawari in her walker to give her a bit of playtime and to free himself up just enough that he can start working in the kitchen while still keeping an eye on her. The stairs are gated off and the rooms with doors have been closed, leaving her with free reign of the main living area. It isn't impossible for her to be out of his line of sight, but she won't get too far that way.

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The main living area has no movement. Nothing to look at for Himawari.

Everything is in the kitchen! Sounds, and sights, and smells, and there! There! There in front of her! She walks her little walker right up as close as she can get and bumps into the back of his leg.

"Ma!" Himawari said insistently. She'd been napping all by herself for how long. "Ma!"

He's barely picked up the dish towel when the tray bumps his leg and he looks down, wide-eyed, over a big green bubble to the tiny human at his feet.

Years ago, Bunta went through something similar with Yukiko, but it's still a bit foreign to him having predominantly been around baby boys all his life. Set a freshly-walking boy down in a walker and he'll be racing full speed for the nearest wall, fully convinced he'll bust through it like some pint-sized Kool-Aid Man to sweet open-air freedom. It seems girls really just want to be where the people are? Well, can't be helped if he's that magnetic!

"Oh, are you here to help clean? Okay, let's get you something too. Here--" Tearing a paper towel off from the roll, he hands it down to her, wets the rag, and starts wiping the counters. "Let's scrub that tray!"

Himawari sees the rag in his hand and the similar one he gives her and giggles, slapping it against her little tray.

"Mama!" she declares.

(It is not very efficient.)

"Ma-ru-i," Bunta says to her with exaggerated pronunciation, aware that speaking is learned through imitation. "That 'ru' is hard, huh? Try and say it again."

(He's getting about as much done as she is.)

"Ma," since they both know what she means. "Maaa mi!"

(That's what you said, right?)

"Mommy? I didn't say that...!" Damn if she isn't cute, though.

Giving up on the kitchen for at least the moment, he lowers himself to a squat to be eye-level with her. "Although I guess it's true enough to a point. Don't tell your papa, though."

Himawari responds just by pointing at his... shoulder? Arm? Something over there.

"Mama!" she says, pointing insistently.

For a moment, he almost forgets about all of the work in the kitchen he has to do before Yukiko and Yukimura get home. Babies were magical. In the time since they moved in with Yukimura and his daughter, Himawari has learned to crawl, stand, even take a wobbly step or two. She's trying more and more solid food, and learning her first words. She's opened up her circle of trust beyond her father, and seeming more confident and outgoing every day. It's a good sign for her.

"Can't be helped," Bunta says as though he wants to pretend he's put up a good fight, and scoops her up out of the walker into his arms. "You're stuck helping me clean now."

Peals of laughter are all Marui gets for that. Himawari is thrilled to be all close and cuddly and out of the chair. Himawari immediately settles onto his shoulder and grabs his ear.

"Mama!" His ear got an insistent tug. "Nack!"

Bunta winces one eye shut as she pulls on his ear. He's well used to this, of course. Babies don't understand the idea of causing discomfort for others.

"Nack?" He thinks through possible interpretations for that word. Knack, knock, neck?

"That's an ear, Hima-chan," he clarifies. "And a strong grip on it! Wait until you're big enough to hold a racket."

"Nack," insistently, pointing at the counter. This is where the tasty things are before Mama gives them to Himawari.

She points at the fridge, too, for good measure. "Nack."

"Oops! My bad, my bad," he says, and moves to the fridge to retrieve a block of cheese with his free hand. "You want a snack. I understand now."

Turning to the counter, he pulls a cutting board out and sets the cheese on it, then gets some crackers out of the cupboard. With the dough cutter he severs a thick wedge of cheese from the block and cubes that into baby-sized chunks, adds a few crackers to the board, and hands the last one to Hima directly.

"Ok: work on that kiddo, while I do some genius one-handed cleaning."

Could he put her in her high chair? Yes. But the goal is make the kitchen cleaner, and unattended babies left with food inevitably did the opposite. Piecemeal access to the food for less mess!

Himawari happily sets to work on her snack, feeling accomplished. Accomplished and assured. Warm. Cuddly.

She puts the last of her current serving in her mouth and pouts once it's gone.

Bunta goes about cleaning the counter while Hima munches on her cracker and proceeds to the most uncanny resemblance to her father Bunta has yet seen from her. Don't mind if he sneaks a quick picture between a sputtered giggle and handing over a cube of cheese.

A few moments later, Yukimura's phone chimes with the delivery of this vision of supreme disappointment, a few stray cracker crumbs at the corner of her mouth.

Three exchanges into a laconic back-and-forth with the boy, Yukimura glances at his phone and smiles.

If you disappoint my baby, you disappoint me, came the chiding text response.

That's right, he reminds himself. You're exchanging barbs with the boy because he'll pay for the pleasure and then you can buy Himawari everything she wants, needs, or looks at.

Cute pictures of your baby disappoint you? That's strange.

While Hima works on her cheese and crackers, getting pieces in alternate until she's had her fill, Bunta straightens the kitchen and starts setting up for dinner prep. Meat is out of the freezer and thawing in a corner. Countertop is wiped down and set up with flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, and a mixing bowl.

New dilemma: bread making definitely takes both hands, and it's sticky business.

Promptly, in response:

I know you can work your magic for some cute pictures of her smiling. No weaknesses!

Himawari, meanwhile, is following Mama's gaze and wondering what he's thinking. She pats him on the shoulder helpfully.

Only pictures of her smiling is a fair request. He'll have to keep the cute pout pictures to himself.

He dries out the nearer sink basin with a dishrag and sets Himawari down inside it with a light hair tousle. "There. You have a front row seat to what's happening now. We're making bread."

With the ingredients set up by the sink, he begins adding them to the mixing bowl, standing close enough that there's no risk of her falling from counter height.

This is very interesting...! For about three seconds. Then Hima wants to explore more. She starts with what's around her. She knows what happens here... this is bath time! Bath! She grips the faucet and tugs.

"Wa!"

Crap--!

Bunta makes a grab and gets the faucet turned right back off, but not in time to keep Hima from a hearty dousing in cold water.

She wasn't ready for the coldness of the water. Baths were better than this! Warm and cozy and not this.

Suddenly, Himawari's face crumpled and she wailed.

Physically, Hima was fine as long as she got dried off and warmed back up, both doable. Luckily, the water came out cold and not scalding. Also luckily, Yukimura was much too far away to hear this distraught cry for help. Bunta scoops her out of the sink and cradles her to his chest as he abandons the mixing bowl for the bathroom to draw her a proper warm bath in the vanity.

"That wasn't a fun surprise, huh? It's okay, shush shush," he comforts, just in time to hear grouchy yelling from the top of the stairs.

"HOW'S ANYONE SAPPOSED TO SLEEP WITH ALL THIS RACKET?!"

Keita...

The noise just makes Himawari cry louder. She's cold and her ears hurt and she might have left some of her snack behind and Keita wasn't happy.

"Maaaa!" she cried, looking forlorn as her father framed by a hospital window.

"Indoor voices when inside, Keita," Bunta projects from the hall leading into the bath. That's enough acknowledgment for Keita for the moment, even as Bunta anticipates more grouchiness from that reminder. But cold, wet baby trumps tired, cranky toddler. He helps Himawari out of her now-soaked outfit. The sink is still filling, but it's a good temperature, so he lowers her in, supporting her back with one hand and scooping warm cupfuls over her with the other.

Bless her heart, she looks (and sounds) miserable.

"There, there. It's ok-- I'm here. You'll be warm and dry again soon."

Keita felt irrationally angry after his dad didn't have anything comforting or apologetic to say. And he's telling him to be quieter? Really?!

"MAKE HER USE INDOOR VOICES FIRST!"

Baby Himawari wailed. She was definitely feeling warmer and the warm water was what she'd been wanting all along, but the noise! Noise! Her ears were hurting and it felt like a punishment and the cold was very upsetting even as it ceased to exist.

Then Bunta's phone rang; Yukimura was on a break and wanted to check on them.

Being that taking care of Himawari was priority uno, phone calls took a backseat for the moment. Especially calls from Dear Papa-- it would only serve to upset him to hear her right now. Better to wait until she wasn't crying.

He needed to take care of his son, too. Toddlers weren't safe to be left alone either; it was no good to have him on a separate floor.

"Keita, are you done sleeping and coming downstairs or are you not done sleeping and going back to bed?"

"I don't wanna sleep anymore!" Came a whine in a voice that desperately sounded like this was not the wise answer, but try telling a toddler that.

"Then, come downstairs and we'll find something fun for you to do."

"I don't wanna come downstairs...!"

Of course. Well, that leaves one solution.

"Then I'm coming up to get you!" He says cheerily. "Better find a good hiding spot. In ten... nine... eight..."

The rushed thumping overhead tells him that Keita, either in a fit of pique or surrender to the game, has decided to listen. Bunta counts down slowly as he lifts a rewarmed Hima from the bath and wraps her in a towel, then climbs the stairs with her bundled in one arm.

If Yukimura asks later, he'll just have to tell him the truth: he was busy.

Yay soft towel! Yay close hold! Yay day with Mama rebounding to its usual level of happiness! Himawari lays her head on the nearest part of Mama she can find. She's warm, she's in soft towel, and she feels happy.

Yukimura leaves a voicemail: "Marui? Call me as soon as you get a chance, okay?"

Himawari really is an angelic baby, damn cute too. Little moments like this where the kid is content and lovey are what make parenting worth it.

"Now, Hima-chan," he narrates for Keita's benefit. "Where did Keita go? Let's look for him together. Is he in his room?"

One look at Keita's room and the breathing mound under the bed covers makes it plainly obvious the answer is yes. Who is he to be such a poor sport and call him out, though? Anyway, helping Keita give himself a time-out so he could calm down and let Daddy fix the mood was the whole point.

"I don't know, Hima-chan. I don't see him at all. Maybe he's.... in the closet!"

The bed giggled. Bunta ignored it and dramatically slid the closet door open. "Aha...! Not there! Right, let's try Yukiko's room-- off we go!"

Once in Yukiko's room, he pulls the phone out and returns Yukimura's call.

Yukimura picks up on the first ring, while picture-perfect Himawari giggles on cue.

"How's everything?" Yukimura asks, not wanting to skip immediately to 'how's my baby, not you?'

Fast! Yukimura was ready for that callback, it seems. It must have made him anxious to not get an answer. Maybe especially after that picture. For that, Bunta is sorry, even if it couldn't have really been helped. Lesson learned!

"Busy as usual," he replies cheerfully. "Hima-chan and I are playing hide and seek with Keita. Wanna say hi to her?"

Yukimura nods to himself. This made perfect sense. Marui was paying attention to Keita instead of his phone, and Yukimura let his heart rate return to its normal value.

"Sorry to interrupt you guys. Himawari-chan, you're having fun with all your friends, aren't you?"

Himawari reached towards the phone. "Pa!"

Yukimura laughed with delight, just at that little sound. "Keita-kun must be good at hiding! Are you stumped?" he asked, not thinking it likely but wondering if Keita would enjoy hearing he was.

"We're not giving up yet! It's strange-- he's gotten so good at being quiet. We're gonna have to be better with our eyes. Right, Hima-chan?"

Yukimura and Hima both laughed at that, though one of them was probably more in on the joke than the other.

"I shouldn't keep you, then, since you have so much work ahead," Yukimura said regretfully. Part of him wanted to go find Keita, too. It must at least be more interesting than counting how many cans of Ponta ended up in the trash per day...

"Papa!" Himawari cooed, and Yukimura seriously considered telling the boy to take a hike for the day.

"Think nothing of it. It's hard being away from your kids for long. Especially a cutie like this one!"

Bunta hears a distant thump followed by a floorboard creak in the hall. "Oh-- we're busted. Gotta go! See you tonight."

Yukimura laughed again, accepting his hang-up. "Your kids are cute too," he said graciously.

Meanwhile, baby Hima clings to Mama as they approach the crime (?) scene. She seems excited by the idea of more things to see! Or maybe she just wants to play with Keita too?

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Bunta collects Keita from the hall, gets Hima into a clean, dry set of clothes, tucks Keita back into bed after he falls asleep on Yukimura's bedroom floor, and takes Hima back downstairs for Take 2 of making dinner.

Not wanting any more surprise baths, Bunta invests several minutes into looking for the wearable baby carrier. Helpfully, Yukimura is more organized than he is, and it's hanging right where it should be in the closet by the front door. Unhelpfully, Bunta has spent the last two years living as a single father to two children and that has conditioned him to look for things literally anywhere except where they should be.

No matter! He has it and Hima is now snug and secure to his chest, and for the time that Keita is finishing his nap he makes good progress on dinner prep. Hima gets the rest of her snack and a burping partway through, and once Keita joins them downstairs, Bunta settles him in the living room floor with some toys.

This is effective for about three minutes. Then he abandons them in a scatter around the living room floor and joins the party in the kitchen, finding a most comfortable and inconvenient spot in the middle of the floor to sit. He starts to cry when Bunta makes him move somewhere safer.

The vegetables are chopped and sorted into bowls, the meat is thawed, the bread dough sits in its pan ready to go in the oven, and the pudding is setting in the fridge by the fruit and whipping cream for dessert. The smell of shortcake wafts through the home along with Keita's piercing wails as he clings around Bunta's leg and refuses to let go.

Earplugs proving their worth everyday, Yukiko thought, ears covered as Yukimura unlocked the door. Need to start carrying them.

Definite not my baby, Yukimura thought meanwhile, but he winced in sympathy.

"I'll come up and get you for dinner if you just want to hide under your headphones," he said quietly, so she could hopefully concentrate on her homework. (Not likely, but...)

But she took the bargain and shot up the stairs like they were on fire.

Yukimura ruefully collects the scattered the toys and carries them towards the sound of the tragedy, or the murder scene, or the twelve booster shots, or the live re-enactment of The Lion King stampede scene, or whatever else has gotten Keita worked up.

And the scene looks cozy enough when he enters, save the crying child. What could have possibly caused this...?

He kneels close to Keita, selecting one of the toys he was partial to.

"Keita-kun, what's happened?"

For Keita, everything was unfair and terrible.

Things were happy when Daddy was in the floor playing with him, but that only lasted long enough to get him started, then he left. When Keita was up before, Daddy had Hima in his arms. When he got up now, Daddy had Hima in his arms. When he went to join them and be with Daddy, Daddy moved him away. He's lonely and feels replaced and uncared for and rejected in favor of Hima and he hates all of it and he's scared because who is going to love and take care of him if Daddy only cares about Hima now?

It's a lot of complicated feeling trapped in a body with a very simple vocabulary. That he can't explain what's wrong is frustrating and that just makes him more upset.

He pushes the toy out of his way and swaps to clinging around Yukimura while continuing to bawl.

"Welcome home," Bunta says with some chagrin. "I moved him out of the work area so he wouldn't get hurt under my feet. He just..."

Bunta lets the sentence finish itself.

"Is Yukiko ok? I didn't hear her come in with you."

"She went to her room," Yukimura says casually. He's a little flattered by the attention, but then the part of his brain that's still a middle school tennis mastermind catches up and he hides a smile. Fitting himself in Keita's shoes isn't hard at all, there's his baby snuggling another man and he can absolutely sympathize with that kind of envy.

He gets to his feet with Keita and the toy, and gives him a little squeeze, letting him go on as he was for a moment. He carries him towards the backdoor.

"Keita-kun, want to practice tennis for a little while?" he asks, when there's a break for the little boy to breathe.

Keita burrows his head against Yukimura's neck and bunches shirt fabric into his fists. It's hard to stop crying once it's started like this, but being picked up and held like Hima begins the ebb. By the time Yukimura reaches the back door, the difference is already noticeable. Keita feels a swell of fondness for Hima's real dad. Somehow, he made it feel like things would be okay again.

"Yeah..." He agrees blindly, until another thought hits him a long two seconds later.

"How do you do that?" What's tennis?

Yukimura looks at Marui over the kids' heads and can't help the raised eyebrow. He doesn't know tennis, the most important thing in the world? Keita, where do you think I go all day, the zoo?

On the one hand, stealing Marui's experience of showing his son how to hold a racket, how to hit a ball, seems unimaginably cruel.

On the other hand, he's done much crueler, and taking back the suggestion might undo their progress. You snooze, you lose, Bunta-papa.

"It's a little like if you played baseball and volleyball at the same time," he said, the words tasting like sacrilegious lies. "Only the bat is wide and flat and netted."

He wonders if this is how Yanagi and Yagyuu felt trying to explain math and English to Akaya. No, Akaya was a lazy brat; Keita is just a baby.

"I'll get you a ball and a racket -- our version of a bat -- and you'll practice hitting it. You can hit it against the wall so it bounces or I can toss it to you. You pick."

He'll leave Marui the option to teach him actual technique later.

If Bunta has any regrets or reservations about Yukimura's plans, he isn't wearing them. Even as he sees Yukimura silently judging him from the back door, he can't manage shame. The greater sense is simply one of appreciation, endearment, and awe. Would Yukimura ever run out of ways to be incredible? Bunta doubted it. Just like that, Keita was feeling better, the house was going to be quieter for Yukiko, and the kitchen floor was going to be clearer so he could safely finish making dinner. Sometimes, the ability to vanquish a child's tears was its own kind of wizardry. Yukimura saw the key to Keita's and was giving him what Bunta couldn't in that moment. He's nothing but thankful for that.

Anyway, how many parents could boast getting free tennis lessons from Coach Yukimura himself? (This was free, right Yukimura?)

"You toss!" Keita said with the last hitch of his crying fit as cheer came in to take its place.

"Have fun, you two."

Keita spared just enough attention away from Yukimura to send his father a cross look and say, "You can just stay quiet and make food!" in a tone that suggested he thought he'd given him the ultimate smackdown.

Bunta blinked and did a remarkable job controlling his expression for his son's sake, as it was dangerously close to exploding with laughter.

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Every Day is Manic Monday

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