Jian sat at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of him and a cup of lukewarm tea that had been steeping for far too long near his elbow. Aiko sat on the floor at his feet, a bowl of brightly colored cereal loops of some type in front of her. She industriously sorted them by color, then organized the colors into something approaching the color spectrum (or as close to ROY G BIV as one could get when dealing with the selection offered by Fruit Loops or their cousins). She put them on her fingers, so that she had miniature rainbows springing from her hands. She stacked them, then knocked over the stacks and sorted them again. She put them in the bowl, in a swirl of carefully placed colors, then took them out again. She did not eat any.
She was nearly a year old, now.
Jian hadn’t noticed what she was doing – he simply knew that she was being quiet (not unusual), and that she was entertained (again, not that unusual), and that he finally had some time to get a bit of work done (over the past three days, this had become a bit scarce). He hoped Wren got back from her mission soon. They’d been avoiding the longer assignments since Aiko had been born, not wanting to leave their daughter with Eve and Hunter for longer than necessary. But this job had required Wren’s rather specialized way of looking at patterns of information, and since it hadn’t required both parents…
He sighed, clicked the screen down, and continued reading the report the director had sent him two days ago. He was supposed to have approved it and returned it by now. This work-from-home thing was far easier when injured than when taking care of a curious baby, even if she was unusually quiet for her age.
Aiko looked at the fridge, then at her father’s knee – slightly above her head. Then at the fridge again. She dropped onto her stomach and began to belly-crawl across the room. Jian looked down. “Hungry, Aiko?” He addressed her as one would address an adult. They’d never held with baby-talk in this house.
Jian stood up, got out one of the bottles of breastmilk Wren had left – they didn’t use formula on their baby, and Wren was rather insistent that, barring some kind of strange emergency, they never would. Jian was inclined to agree with her. Aiko, for her part, rolled onto her back and watched him, upside down, and he carefully heated the bottle.
She hadn’t spoken yet. She rarely made any sounds. He was a bit worried about that, but Wren had simply smiled and shaken her head when he mentioned it, once, a few months ago.
“She’s learning, Jian. She’s too busy observing to bother communicating with us that way. When she finds she needs to tell us something we can’t infer from her behavior, then she’ll talk.”
He’d decided she was probably right.
Jian leaned down, scooped Aiko up in his arms, and settled on the chair. He offered her the bottle. She gave it an unappreciative look – he could understand that. She was used to her mother, not some plastic thing. But she opened her mouth after a moment, and began to eat.
Jian sat in silence for a while, thinking. Wren should be back in the morning. Aiko would probably be overjoyed to see her, in her quiet way. For his part, he was looking forward to…
Jian’s thoughts trailed off as he looked down, derailed by the arrangement of cereal at his feet. He frowned at it. Something wasn’t right there.
It was grouped strangely, colors arranged with obvious intent, but not the way a child would normally place them – the blues weren’t all with the blues, the reds weren’t all with the reds, and so on. They were mixed together, but laid out in neat groups.
There was a circle of colors around him. It took him a few long moments to figure out what he was seeing. But once he thought of it, the thought wouldn’t shake loose. And it made sense. If the reds represented security checkpoints, the greens lounges and restrooms…and she had been there before, since they took her in to work with them fairly often.
Carefully, he set down the bottle. Held up Aiko so he was looking into her eyes. “Aiko…did you just map out HQ in cereal?”
no subject
She was nearly a year old, now.
Jian hadn’t noticed what she was doing – he simply knew that she was being quiet (not unusual), and that she was entertained (again, not that unusual), and that he finally had some time to get a bit of work done (over the past three days, this had become a bit scarce). He hoped Wren got back from her mission soon. They’d been avoiding the longer assignments since Aiko had been born, not wanting to leave their daughter with Eve and Hunter for longer than necessary. But this job had required Wren’s rather specialized way of looking at patterns of information, and since it hadn’t required both parents…
He sighed, clicked the screen down, and continued reading the report the director had sent him two days ago. He was supposed to have approved it and returned it by now. This work-from-home thing was far easier when injured than when taking care of a curious baby, even if she was unusually quiet for her age.
Aiko looked at the fridge, then at her father’s knee – slightly above her head. Then at the fridge again. She dropped onto her stomach and began to belly-crawl across the room. Jian looked down. “Hungry, Aiko?” He addressed her as one would address an adult. They’d never held with baby-talk in this house.
Jian stood up, got out one of the bottles of breastmilk Wren had left – they didn’t use formula on their baby, and Wren was rather insistent that, barring some kind of strange emergency, they never would. Jian was inclined to agree with her. Aiko, for her part, rolled onto her back and watched him, upside down, and he carefully heated the bottle.
She hadn’t spoken yet. She rarely made any sounds. He was a bit worried about that, but Wren had simply smiled and shaken her head when he mentioned it, once, a few months ago.
“She’s learning, Jian. She’s too busy observing to bother communicating with us that way. When she finds she needs to tell us something we can’t infer from her behavior, then she’ll talk.”
He’d decided she was probably right.
Jian leaned down, scooped Aiko up in his arms, and settled on the chair. He offered her the bottle. She gave it an unappreciative look – he could understand that. She was used to her mother, not some plastic thing. But she opened her mouth after a moment, and began to eat.
Jian sat in silence for a while, thinking. Wren should be back in the morning. Aiko would probably be overjoyed to see her, in her quiet way. For his part, he was looking forward to…
Jian’s thoughts trailed off as he looked down, derailed by the arrangement of cereal at his feet. He frowned at it. Something wasn’t right there.
It was grouped strangely, colors arranged with obvious intent, but not the way a child would normally place them – the blues weren’t all with the blues, the reds weren’t all with the reds, and so on. They were mixed together, but laid out in neat groups.
There was a circle of colors around him. It took him a few long moments to figure out what he was seeing. But once he thought of it, the thought wouldn’t shake loose. And it made sense. If the reds represented security checkpoints, the greens lounges and restrooms…and she had been there before, since they took her in to work with them fairly often.
Carefully, he set down the bottle. Held up Aiko so he was looking into her eyes. “Aiko…did you just map out HQ in cereal?”
She simply smiled, and reached for his nose.