Extra Chapter 08
№781
Today is Baldy’s first day at kindergarten. Our whole family set out to send Baldy, although it wasn’t necessary because our house is very close to the kindergarten.
My partner said we bought a house in the school district, so Baldy’s education from kindergarten to elementary school is all taken care of in one go.
Oh, you might not know what a dragon is. A dragon is an animal from my partner’s hometown. It has the antlers of a deer, the head of a cow, the eyes of a rabbit, the ears of an elephant, the body of a snake, the scales of a fish, the paws of a tiger, and the claws of an eagle…
My partner said dragons have the ability to soar into the sky and dive into the abyss.
After hearing about dragons for the first time, Baldy seemed thoughtful. That evening when my partner and I went to call Baldy and Bobo for dinner, we saw Baldy and Bobo acting out a very unconvincing dragon together.
Baldy was struggling to hold onto the water bed, his eyes wide open. His lower body was already soaked, and it was Bobo holding up Baldy’s buttocks that prevented him from completely falling into the water. When we opened the door and walked in, Baldy, who had been worried about falling into the water, instantly perked up and roared at us.
“Dad, I’ve turned into a dragon!” Baldy exclaimed.
Bobo, feeling embarrassed, glanced away but didn’t leave his silly younger brother behind. Just then, Baldy’s tail wagged excitedly and slapped Bobo’s face. Bobo closed one eye, the open eye full of resignation.
The three of us exchanged a knowing glance. My partner complimented Baldy first, saying how great he was. Afraid of laughing, I covered my mouth and chuckled in agreement.
Baldy was overjoyed to hear the praise and truly believed he had turned into a giant dragon, roaring at us like an evil dragon. He stretched his small neck and howled with satisfaction, while poor Bobo supported his buttocks underneath.
I walked over, grabbed Baldy by the back of his neck, and helped support his weight with Bobo. Baldy didn’t fuss when I grabbed him, looking up at me and asking, “Dad, why can’t I fly?”
I told him, “Because you’re still small, your wings haven’t grown out yet.”
Baldy sighed regretfully and murmured, “But I want to fly.”
I looked down at the disappointed Baldy, at his drooping little ears, and I don’t know what I was thinking at that moment. Perhaps I felt Baldy looked pitiful like this.
So, I placed Baldy on top of my head, holding him steady with one hand, and rushed him from the second-floor staircase to the kitchen.
Baldy’s little claws gripped my hair tightly, almost pulling it out. I thought, “Baldy’s little strength could still hurt me. If he really pulled out my hair, I would make sure to retrieve every single strand”.
As Baldy pulled my hair and screamed, his babyish cries soared into sharp, high pitches. After landing, Baldy was excited like a little fool, tugging my hair and asking me to do it again.
I pulled this little fool down from my head, carrying him. The two of us looked up at my partner together.
My partner didn’t even have time to hug Bobo before rushing out to stop us, asking me to fly more slowly. But he obviously said it too late; it was all over in the blink of an eye. Just as he opened his mouth, we had already landed.
That’s because our house only has two floors. The light brown triangular roof has two long rabbit ears on top.
The upper part of the house is brick-red, and the lower part is gray-blue. My partner says it’s gray-blue, but I think the paint on the first floor blends moss green and cloudy sky colors.
The square orange door is made up of four rectangular small doors. Each small door has square glass windows, and the glass chosen by my partner is deep blue.
Outside the house, there’s a wooden staircase. We can walk directly from the outside staircase to the second floor.
The house is small, standing alone among the trees, not even surrounded by tall trees.
The house I used to live in was always very big, so big that it echoed when I spoke, with only my own voice echoing.
But now the house is small, small enough to be easily stuffed full. I think in a few years, when Baldy grows up, this house might not be big enough for our family. But it doesn’t matter; we can expand on the original foundation of the house. As for the color of the new floor, Baldy and Bobo can decide.
I guess Baldy would definitely want yellow. Bright yellow.
Many things are bright yellow: yellow tulips, blooming sunflowers, sunny days…
Now Baldy, Bobo, and us are still living in the same room. But offspring always grow up. My partner told me that when the offspring are ready to sleep separately, we can use the pattern of a little sun as Baldy’s door sign, an orange-yellow cartoon little sun, and use a little moon as Bobo’s door sign.
My partner told me that we must prepare the offspring’s new room beautifully, so they can move in happily with their little toys.
Speaking of little toys, I remembered once, Baldy’s favorite salted fish pillow fell into the water pit.
By the way, I don’t think I’ve introduced what’s around the house to you. In the beginning, my partner and I chose an open space in the purple forest and built our house there.
There are no small lakes or streams in the purple forest. When Bobo wants to swim, we can only take Bobo to the distant sea.
So I simply dug two pits around the house, a water pit and a flower pit. The water in the water pit comes from a mountain spring.
My partner once told me a story from his hometown. I can’t remember the specific content anymore. At that time, telling that story was to put Baldy and Bobo to sleep. I only remember one detail, that a young monk used sections of bamboo to guide the clear mountain water down from the mountains…
There is no bamboo in the purple forest, so I dismantled some accumulated weapons and turned those useless things into water pipes. I don’t know why, but I still think the water flowing through bamboo in the story was clearer.
We don’t have bamboo here, only my husband’s hometown does. In a while, we’ll be going to his hometown. Baldy said he wanted to go there to see dragons and little monks. My husband said, “You won’t see dragons anymore, but maybe you’ll see little monks.”
Little monks often appear in bedtime stories my husband reads to the kids, like a monk carrying water to drink, two monks carrying water, and three monks without water to drink. There’s also the clever Yi Xiu, who has a song that Bobo loves to sing.
“Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji, we love you, Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji, clever and smart…”
Every time Bobo sings this song, Baldy will be on the side, tucking his head like a shy turtle and giggling like “Ah Ji Ah Ji.”
As soon as Bobo starts singing “Ge Ji,” Baldy can’t stop laughing.
It’s like a switch for laughter. I said “Ge Ji,” and Baldy laughs too. Once when Baldy was drinking milk, I suddenly said “Ge Ji Ge Ji Ge Ji,” and Baldy laughed until he spit out the milk.
My husband held Baldy’s hind paw and started singing “Ge Ji,” pinching Baldy’s paw pads with his thumb and index finger to the rhythm of “Ge Ji.”
Baldy couldn’t stop laughing. He covered his ears with both little paws, as if trying to escape from our “Ge Ji” sounds, twisting and turning like a caterpillar. I was interested in poking Baldy’s belly. My fingers rested on Baldy’s soft belly, feeling its slight tremble.
I couldn’t understand why Baldy was laughing. Maybe children’s sense of humor is something we can’t grasp. If someone sang “Ge Ji” to me when I was little, would I laugh?
No one ever sang it to me, so I don’t know the answer.
Baldy said he wanted to go to my husband’s hometown to see the monks. My husband said, “Little monks are especially cute, wearing tiny monk robes, bald heads, little cloth shoes, and with their little fists clenched practicing Shaolin kung fu. They are extremely adorable.”
After hearing this, Baldy longed to become a little monk too.
This answer fits Baldy’s aesthetics; he never thought bald heads were ugly because his nickname Baldy means “bald.” He asked us what “bald” meant, and we told him it means having no hair.
My husband often tells Baldy, “Baldy is so cute, Baldy is so great, Baldy is so clever…” No matter what Baldy does, my husband praises him.
Perhaps in Baldy’s mind, being bald is really cute, being bald is great, being bald is clever. Plus, in the song “Ge Ji,” it says “Ge Ji is clever and smart, Ge Ji we love you.”
These things allow Baldy to face being bald with calmness.
But Baldy is still in his animal form. Unless he turns into a human form, we can’t dress him up as a little monk. Otherwise, I can’t imagine Baldy’s animal form, except for a bald head, with the rest of his fur intact.
That would be extraordinarily ugly.
Where was I?
Every time I write a serialized post, I always end up rambling about trivial matters. I never knew I had so much to say, and these things suddenly pop up—little things I thought I’d forgotten.
But since I wrote this post, I realized I haven’t forgotten these things. They are hidden in some corners of my memory. When my emotions overlap with them for a moment, they rush out, vivid and clear, as if they happened just yesterday, as if those moments of joy and warmth flowed through my heart just a second ago.
When I grow old, with white hair and slower movements, will these memories still be so vivid? At that time, I could spend a whole day reminiscing about cherished memories.
What will Baldy and Bobo be like when they grow up? Will they still be like they were when they were children? Will they have their own offspring?
While typing this string of words, I suddenly felt a small emptiness in my heart. But when I looked back at my husband, that spot in my left chest was filled again.
My husband, my offspring. Whenever I think of them for no reason, I am filled with anticipation for the long future ahead.
Anyway, let’s get back to the topic. What was I going to talk about before? Baldy’s salted fish pillow fell out of the window and into the water pit I dug for Bobo.
Baldy stuck out his butt, leaning on the window like a “waiting for husband” stone. I poked his little butt and said to him, “You dropped it yourself; go down and get it later.”
Baldy said, “Fish need to soak in water, so let my salted fish pillow soak a little longer in the water pit.”
I nodded and poked Baldy’s little butt again.
Baldy looked at me somewhat resentfully and said, “Bad Dad, if you touch my butt again, I’ll fart and make you smell it.”
I raised an eyebrow and asked Baldy to let out a fart for me to smell. Baldy instantly backed off. He opened his mouth and quietly made an “Ah Pu” sound.
I almost burst out laughing. Suddenly, I understood how Baldy felt when he laughed upon hearing “Ge Ji.” If Baldy suddenly makes an “Ah Pu” sound at me next time, I’d probably want to laugh too.
Why laugh? I don’t know; I just feel like laughing.
Regarding Baldy going to kindergarten, Bobo can’t go to kindergarten yet because he can’t move around easily right now, so we let Baldy go to school first.
Baldy has become familiar with the kids there. Going to school this time is just a silly joy for him. This morning, when we left, my husband helped Baldy carry his little backpack, and I carried Bobo. We all went together to send Baldy to school.
Baldy didn’t quite understand the concept of going to school yet. He bounced and stepped on the grass, running up and down like a little furball rolling around.
Bobo looked at Baldy with some envy.
The school is very close to home; it’s an orphanage with both a kindergarten and an elementary school. When we reached the gate, my husband helped Baldy put on his backpack, and our whole family watched Baldy leave.
Baldy carried his little backpack, and it bounced up and down with him as he ran. Halfway there, he turned back to look at us, stuck out his tongue, and gave us a silly smile.
My husband shared a passage with me, saying it was something a writer’s mother once said:
“I slowly, slowly came to understand that ‘having children’ simply means that your connection with them is to silently watch their backs as they gradually move further away in this lifetime. You stand at one end of the small road, watching them disappear around the bend, and they silently tell you with their backs: there’s no need to chase after.”
I don’t know why, but after reading this passage, I felt a bit sad.
The slight sadness lasted only until the afternoon when I went to pick Baldy up from school. Baldy rushed out like a little cannonball with his backpack. I squatted down, opened my arms wide, and Baldy jumped into my embrace, smearing my face with his drool.
He said, “Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, I missed you so much.”
I murmured in agreement.
Baldy wriggled in my arms, constantly cuddling and calling out. He even leaned his little head towards Bobo and said, “Big brother, I missed you too, ah.”
He expressed his love for each family member. His love was so direct and straightforward that I couldn’t bring myself to tell Baldy, “I missed you too.”
At dinner, Baldy took out a piece of green bean cake from his backpack. He said the cake was delicious; he ate one piece and saved another piece to bring back and share with our family.
By the way, Baldy can now eat things other than milk.
It was a piece of green bean cake wrapped in a tissue and already crushed. When I unfolded the tissue, crumbs rolled onto the dining table.
Baldy was puzzled, sitting there unsure of what to do.
“It looks really hard to eat. I’ll… I’ll eat it myself.”
My husband scooped out a third of the green bean cake with a spoon. Under Baldy’s nervous gaze, he elongated his tone and said satisfyingly, “This is the most delicious green bean cake he’s ever eaten.”
Bobo and I split the rest of the green bean cake and also said it was really delicious.
Baldy happily said he would bring us some again tomorrow.
During dinner, Baldy kept chattering with us about what happened at school today. I thought Baldy was as noisy as a yellow bird—no, I should say a horn, constantly chirping.
But it was lively. I used to think I liked quietness, but now I realize that liveliness is also good.
№782
So heartwarming! My mom said when I was a kid and went to kindergarten, I stuffed braised pork into my pocket and brought it back for her to eat. She was touched and didn’t scold me even though I dirtied my skirt. In the end, she secretly threw away that piece of braised pork behind my back. Hmph.
№783
So cute!!! It’s so healing~~
№784
It’s really heartwarming, this post has filled me with so much sweetness. By the way, what exactly are Baldy and Bobo’s animal forms, and how did they dress up as dragons?
Dragons have deer antlers, ox heads, rabbit eyes, elephant ears, snake bodies, fish scales, tiger paws, eagle claws…
Baldy doesn’t swim well and has fur on his body, so through process of elimination, Baldy might be a deer, ox, rabbit, or tiger.
The OP said Baldy always goes “ah ah ah,” so he must be a little tiger!
Baldy is a little bald tiger! OP, OP, did you know that Marshal Xi once was a bald tiger?! It was dug up in a technical post! Although fans of the Marshal said that post was fake and used the video from the Marshal’s ennoblement ceremony to refute it, I think Marshal might have really been bald for a period (if mentioning Marshal being bald might I get banned? This is my only account, please spare me!)
Bobo has a water bed, could Bobo be a fish?
But mermaids have fish tails instead of legs. Not considering beauty issues, OP mentioned in the post that it’s inconvenient for Bobo to walk, always in the water, so his lower half must not be legs.
Therefore, Bobo should be a snake, a water snake, snake people are all good looking, Bobo is a beautiful and pretty snake baby!
№784
A beautiful snake baby? Count me in!
The OP’s husband must be a hardcore fan of He Ruge! That song “Ge Ji Ge Ji” was sung during the livestream~
№785
I really like this post ahhhh, it’s so cute. Baldy is going to school, so will Bobo feel lonely being alone? Let Bobo accompany Baldy to school.
№786
But I feel like Bobo doesn’t look like a water snake… It’s just a gut feeling, actually I’ve always imagined Bobo as He Ruge when he was young, there’s no discord when putting oneself in
№787
It would be great if He Ruge and Marshal had a baby, I want to hear the big and small mermaid sing together
I slowly, slowly came to understand that ‘having children’ simply means that your connection with them is to silently watch their backs as they gradually move further away in this lifetime. You stand at one end of the small road, watching them disappear around the bend, and they silently tell you with their backs: there’s no need to chase.
— Long Yingtai, “Watching Over”
