nyctophilia
[ nĭk′tə-fĭl′ē-ə ]
n.
a preference for the night or darkness
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"Oh we're definitely killing them then, I need to pad my stats anyway."
"You sound like a serial killer."
"I know, I still wonder why...
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“Eommaaaa! When will erryone come??” my sweet four-year-old daughter, Choi Sooyoung, called out as she bolted into the kitchen, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around my legs. Her bright, curious eyes were wide with anticipation, her excitement palpable.
I giggled, gently patting her soft hair, brushing it away from her round, rosy cheeks, “They’ll be here in about 30 minutes, sweetie.” I said, crouching down to meet her eye level, “Do you want to help eomma bake the cake?”
Her face lit up instantly, and she nodded with so much enthusiasm that her little pigtails bobbed up and down, “Yes!!” she squealed, already dragging a nearby stool across the tiled floor. The wooden legs screeched slightly, but she was too excited to care.
With determination, she climbed onto the stool and placed her tiny hands on the edge of the counter, peering at the large mixing bowl filled with rich chocolate batter. Her excitement only grew as I handed her the wooden spoon.
“It’s your birthday, but why are you doing all the work, Yuyu?” a familiar voice drawled from behind me.
I turned to see my wonderful husband, Choi San, standing in the doorway with his brows furrowed in mock disapproval. He had our two-year-old son, Choi Youngjae, cradled securely in his arms. Youngjae was sucking contentedly on his pacifier, his wide, innocent eyes locked onto the mixing bowl as if it held all the wonders of the universe.
“Well, I was the one who invited everyone to my own birthday party.” I replied with a playful raised eyebrow, already sensing where this conversation was heading, “So, since I’m the hostess, it’s only right that I help make everything, right?”
Before San could retort, my attention snapped back to Sooyoung. She was enthusiastically mixing the batter, her tiny hands gripping the spoon so tightly that the bowl wobbled precariously on the counter. I lunged forward, grabbing the bowl just in time to prevent disaster.
“Sooyoung-ah, not so hard, okay? We want the batter to stay in the bowl.” I said gently, laughing as her face scrunched in concentration.
“Okay, eomma.” she chirped, slowing down her mixing but still grinning from ear to ear.
San chuckled from behind me, rocking Youngjae slightly in his arms, “Yeah...but we could’ve just bought one, you know.” he said casually, his tone teasing as he watched me multitask between supervising Sooyoung and holding the bowl steady.
“Still.” I shot back, giving him a pointed look, though my lips curved into a small smile.
San shook his head with a smirk, stepping closer until he was beside me, “You’re unbelievable.” he murmured affectionately, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.
