It's the first time for both of us being parents, anyway.
🎶 Joy - Introduce Me to a Good Person
When we first went to look for a honeymoon home
"Since you're newlyweds, you should think about children."
It feels like only yesterday when I couldn't even answer because my face turned red for no reason at that one sentence. A year has passed since marriage. Before long, we truly became a family.
It might have been a bit fast compared to other couples, but not for us. Because it was a moment we met after walking together through 10 years of dating.
When we first checked the pregnancy test, we both blurted out comments that are absolutely ridiculous thinking back now.
"Hey, Park Hojin. Is this thing broken?"
"What is this? What, do you have COVID?"
What kind of parents in the world would look at a new life coming to them and call it a malfunction or a disease? Thinking about it now, it was really immature.
But it couldn't be helped. To us, the fact that a child was created felt much more unrealistic than the fact that we were married. But the moment I saw the ultrasound at the hospital and heard that tiny heartbeat.
Only then did everything feel real in an instant. Ah. It's real. To us. It really came to us. A gift far greater than we deserved. Luck. And a blessing.
I didn't even feel this way when we registered our marriage and the word 'spouse' appeared on the family relationship certificate. To us, who always grumbled about being like family because we'd seen everything there is to see, a child came, and we truly became a family.
In a span of over 10 years where I thought there would be no more excitement, it felt like a new time had started beating again. However, the excitement was short-lived. Without even being able to imagine what would happen to us in the future.
No, what would happen to me.
7 weeks pregnant. I was worried because I heard that for other mothers, morning sickness is in full swing and they can't even drink water properly if it's severe. Moreover, since my wife originally had a weak stomach, I was worried it might be even worse. It was a mandatory worry as a family member.
But what do you know?
My housemate—no, my wife—acted as if she didn't even know what morning sickness was; instead, her appetite increased. Is this what they call 'eating sickness'? Well, it's good that a pregnant woman eats well, but the problem was... It was the appetite that popped up at any time.
Regardless of time, place, or season.
She'd suddenly say she wants soy-marinated crab at two in the morning. Why on earth does she want strawberries, tangerines, roasted sweet potatoes, steamed buns, and Bungeo-ppang in the middle of a sweltering summer?
No, how does a baby who hasn't even come out into the world yet distinguish the taste of silver hairtail caught in Jeju Island? She'd say she wants cold noodles, but then the delivery arrives and she suddenly changes the menu to pig's trotters. It was a daily occurrence.
Eventually, when I couldn't find a place that sells it, I reached the level of 'creation' where I just made it myself somehow. I wouldn't mind if it were food I could make quickly. The time it takes is not a problem. But she always wants things that can't be eaten right this second.
And decisively.
"It's not that I want to eat this, but~"
That one sentence ends it. I can't even say anything. Her talent for driving a person crazy is worthy of the Guinness World Records. But what can I do? I have to do it. Our baby insists on eating winter food in the middle of this midsummer.
Just like that, the number of kitchen appliances has increased one by one until it's at a level where I could open a shop. A takoyaki pan. An air fryer I bought to roast sweet potatoes. A waffle maker. An ice cream maker. At this rate, I'll be opening a cafe.
Just then, the doorbell rings again. The fish-shaped bread maker must have arrived. What choice do I have? I have to bake some Bungeo-ppang and serve it before my wife wakes up in this scorching heat.
Ugh. But how do you even use this?
Hey, little one. Your dad isn't usually this kind of person. I'm trying really hard because of you.
I'm learning all sorts of things and making all sorts of things because of you. Still, Dad will bring you whatever you want.
So later, don't make Mom hurt too much. Let's definitely meet in good health.
It's 7:00 AM. The air conditioner is already set to 24 degrees. It should be cool, but I'm constantly pulling at my T-shirt because of the sweat running down my spine as I stand in front of the gas stove. Is there anyone else who bakes Bungeo-ppang with the AC on in the middle of summer?
The windows are wide open. The AC is running. And right next to it, I'm holding onto the Bungeo-ppang mold with the gas stove on. The electricity bill is soaring, and the heat is rising. I wonder what on earth I'm doing right now.
‘Golden ratio for Bungeo-ppang batter.’ ‘How to bake Bungeo-ppang to a golden brown.’ ‘Timing for flipping the Bungeo-ppang mold.’
Looking at my search history, one would think I'm someone starting a business. I played one video and watched it over and over again. The batter shouldn't be too thin, nor too thick. Preheat the mold sufficiently, and fill it only halfway. Don't get greedy with the red bean paste.
...Okay.
I solemnly place the Bungeo-ppang maker on the fire, heat it up sufficiently, and try to bake it. Damn it, I poured too much. When I hurriedly closed the mold, the batter squeezed out the edges and started to burn. I failed from the first batch. It looked so easy in the video. It's mocking me.
Try again. This time, a little less batter. A moderate amount of red bean paste. Good. I thought it was fine this time, but I missed the timing to flip it. The inside is undercooked while only the outside turned brown. When I forced it over, the batter tore and the red bean paste spilled out. It's not a fish; it's a crime scene.
...Are you giving me a hard time too?
I blurted out a word to the Bungeo-ppang and let out a hollow laugh. I'm currently having a power struggle with a fish-shaped bread. I must have heatstroke. The AC is definitely on, but sweat is pouring down my back. The electricity bill is going up, and the heat is just as hot.
I'm seriously about to lose my mind. But I can't turn off the stove. I can't close the window. I have to feed her the Bungeo-ppang before it cools down. My wife is sleeping. In the end, there was only one choice. I just have to bake it well. Again, slowly. Just like I saw in the video.
Pour the batter. Add the red bean paste. Lightly cover with more batter. Set the timer. Flip it slowly.
Yes!
Success this time. The smell of it baking to a golden brown spread. The sweet scent of butter and flour cooking. And the smell of red beans on top of that. This time, it really looked like Bungeo-ppang. Once I succeeded once, I started to get the hang of it. One. Two. Three. As they started to look quite plausible, the tension finally eased.
When I put them on a plate, they looked quite decent with steam still rising from them. Sweat was dripping from my forehead, and my arms were red from the intense heat, but I didn't feel bad. They shouldn't get cold. They're tastiest when eaten now. I walked straight to the master bedroom.
Hey.
Guest was still sleeping peacefully in bed. And to think I went through all this trouble for someone. In the past, I would have just yanked the blanket off, but I can't do that anymore, so I slowly shake her shoulder to wake her up.
I've served up the Bungeo-ppang, so you'd better get up quickly.
Release Date 2026.08.15 / Last Updated 2026.08.18