Prompt: Cute Family
Rating: K+
"Mama?" her little girl says, and from her tone, Karin can tell it's going to be one of those conversations. She is just shy of four years old, and is therefore bright-eyed and full of whys and how comes. "Mama, how come Papa is the one who always cooks?"
Her husband snorts as he sets their dinner on the table. Karin glares at him, not amused. "Because, honey, Papa looks better in an apron than me."
Toshiro snorts again, but she ignores him. Her daughter looks at her with big amber eyes, ones that neither of her parents anticipated but both deeply appreciate. "But Taro says that mommies are supposed to cook."
"Taro?" That little shit from shinigami daycare? She knew it was a bad idea sending her children to that place. Filling their heads with nonsense. "Taro doesn't know what he's talking about. Not all mommies cook."
She frowns, an expression that's adorable and makes Karin see glimpses of her brother on her daughter's tiny face. "But why?"
The woman pauses as her son squawks from her lap, fussy and hungry. He is the splitting image of his father-blue blue eyes and snowy hair and all-another thing she and Toshiro hadn't expected. Genetics are a beautiful, unpredictable thing.
"But why, Mama?"
Toshiro scoops up their son and puts him in his high chair. Karin hands him the small plate of finger foods, and he smiles slightly in thanks.
"Mama!"
"Because," Karin says quickly. Her daughter hates to be ignored. "Some mommies wear the pants in the relationship."
Toshiro rolls his eyes. Karin pokes him in the side when he walks by.
Their daughter, her face an open book, is confused. "But Papa wears pants too!" she says obviously.
Karin leans over the table conspiratorially. "Some mommies are sick of living in a patriarchal society and being forced to conform to gender norms."
The little girl just blinks at that. Toshiro sighs, using oven-mitted hands to place the last dish on the table. "Honey, Mama doesn't cook because she almost burned our house down last time, remember? Now eat your peas."
"Okay!" she says happily, her question finally clearly answered.
Karin scoffs, betrayed by her other half. "Rude!" But when her husband passes her one last time on his way to his chair, she can't help but give his backside a firm grope.
The look he shoots her clearly says Not in front of the kids. But Karin just grins mischievously back.
"Nope, I'm pretty sure it's because of the apron."