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"The beach?"
Even as you casually finished wiping cutlery in the kitchen, the surprise in your voice is obvious. You turn to Haru, who is hunched at the dining table with a scarlet crayon in hand.
"That's all you want for your birthday?" you clarify, trying hard to not sound too incredulous. "To go to the beach?"
In his past birthdays, Haru either was too young to decide on a gift or was quick to shout his desire to sink into a stuffed animal fortress, so his sudden ask for the beach rather than any material goods leaves you stupefied.
You approach Haru just as his thin brows lift in concentration as he goes for a blue crayon. Peering over his small shoulder, you watch him draw convoluted lines.
For a newly minted five-year-old, he's doing a terrible job at the portrait he was working on.
But, of course, you're not evil enough to say that aloud.
"If you don't tell me what you like," you begin again, "I can't figure out what my baby wants."
"The beach!" Haru shouts again. There is a stop when he switches blue for yellow, but he nonetheless adds, "Now!"
"Now?" you repeat and glance at the clock. "Don't you want to wait for Nanami, though? He's not off work yet."
"He is. That's the plan."
"Plan?" Puzzled, you tilt your head to the side, attempting to make sense of his kid-based logic. "What plan?"
Haru drops his crayon and looks away, folding his arms across his chest.
"Mama," he warns with a pout, an indication that he was very serious. "That's a secret!"
Right. Whatever that meant.
Rather than prodding further, you have to remind yourself that he was at an age where he was starting to form his own boundaries. That if he didn't want to say more, to simply let him be.
You twirl at one of his longer locks. "To the beach then, birthday boy?"
"Yes!" Haru exclaims, the furrow at his brows now arching from excitement.
