Mommy wrapped her arms around her body, covering her chest as she took a step back. “You don’t mean...”
“No, that’s way too far.” No way. That’s way too much. I may be a “baby,” but I’m a full-grown adult. It would only cause trouble for both of us if my mother were to take this role-playing to the next level, so I brought out another item I’d prepared. Ta-da! “Here you go.”
“What is that...?”
Baby bottles existed in this world... They had them, so they exist. There aren’t any status windows, bicycles, or seafood rice bowls, but there’s a level system, horse-drawn carriages, and baby bottles. That’s the kind of world this is.
The baby bottle was filled with milk. The maid who’d filled the bottle with milk for me said I was getting ahead of myself, but I was in fact roughly twenty years late.
Mommy looked at the baby bottle and seemed confused. What? You don’t know what this is?
I voiced the thought. “It’s a baby bottle... You don’t know what this is?”
“I see,” she said faintly. “I’m supposed to feed you with it.” I could see a firm resolve in her eyes, like she was about to commit murder. She took the baby bottle.
I’m so glad she’s trying this child-rearing thing. I guess you can’t help but feel that motherly instinct when you see your baby hungry. As for Daddy and his fatherly instinct, he seemed like he couldn’t care less about my empty stomach.
“Stop this!” he insisted. “I’m begging you!”
Please quiet down, Daddy. Mommy’s willing to try.
The trembling baby bottle made its way closer to my mouth. I grabbed onto the tip and began sucking on it, drinking the milk. No matter how hard I sucked, only a little bit of milk made its way into my mouth, and it felt very frustrating.
I didn’t drink that much, but I guess this is good enough. I let go of the baby bottle. I’ll act happy since I’m supposed to be full.
“Hee hee.”
“Is it over...?” Mommy had gone completely pale, and she stumbled backward.
I knew it. You don’t just feed your baby, lay them down, then call it a day. You have to do that thing after eating.
“Excuse me,” I said politely. “Can you sit me up and tap on my back? I need to burp.”
Mommy, whose motherly instincts had been completely awakened, was immediately by my side. Her voice trembled as she spoke between tears. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
She grabbed both my shoulders and pulled me up from the sofa. Since it would be cruel to make Mommy pick me up with her thin arms, I helped get myself up. The moment I sat up, I let my head flop to the side without any warning.
“Eeeeeek!” Mommy squeaked.
“My apologies. I can’t hold my own head up yet.”
Mommy fell backward. She screamed, and she fell to the floor. Babies needed their heads supported when held—otherwise, their heads would flop around, which was dangerous. I hope she’ll learn her lesson and avoid holding babies in the incorrect way.
Mommy’s piercing shriek seemed to echo throughout the estate, and I heard footsteps running toward us. Less than a minute after the scream and fall, Patrick appeared.
“What’s going on?!” As soon as he opened the door, Patrick froze up.
I was sitting there with a bib, my head flopped to the side. Mommy was on the ground and couldn’t seem to get up. Daddy had rushed over to Mommy, and he was holding her in his arms. Patrick was surely grateful to witness such a picturesque scene of a family having fun together.
After taking in this heartwarming moment straight out of a rambunctious family comedy, the expression on Patrick’s face slowly drained away before he silently exited the room, closing the door behind him.
“Wait!” Daddy exclaimed. “Please, help us!”
“Don’t go!” Mommy cried. “I’m begging you!”
Patrick was gone. I could tell that he was trying to be considerate of our family time, but for some reason my parents were desperately trying to stop him from leaving. After a short moment, Patrick returned and shot me a look of incredible displeasure.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m a baby,” I said.
“You shouldn’t do that...” he responded with a sigh.
“Are you trying to say that it’s uncomfortable to see me acting like a baby?”
“Why would you do it at all when you clearly understand all that?”
It’s all to repair my relationship with my parents, duh. I’ll stop, then. I was hoping for them to go, “So cute!” They don’t seem to care for the baby act at all though. I guess Baby Yumiella, age nineteen, is too much for my parents to handle.
I decided to give up on trying to start over with my parents. I guess that it was actually perfectly fine for a child and their parents to never see eye to eye, for the entirety of their lives.
After losing my momentum, I stood up and left the room. I noticed Patrick wasn’t following, so I turned around and saw something unbelievable: my mother and father had extended their hands to hold Patrick’s, and they were thanking him.
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” my father said. “I’m truly grateful that you’re taking that off our hands.”
“I’m so sorry,” my mother apologized. “It’s all my fault for giving birth to a girl like that.”
Patrick seemed troubled by the four hands holding his. “I don’t think you should be referring to your own child in such a way—”
“I’m so glad to have you,” sobbed my mother. “I can’t believe you’re even going to marry her.”
Why are they getting along with their son-in-law better than with their own daughter? Not only had my parents left me out of their little group, they’d accepted Patrick while still excluding me. I pouted and left.
Still, while Baby Yumiella might have seemed like an act that made me look incredibly ridiculous, if it had created an opportunity for my parents and Patrick to become closer, I was glad that I had done it.