The Ros reacting to their baby calling them "mon/dad" for the first time? It’s so cute 🥺
Eeeeek, so cute!!! 🥺
For the ROs who want babies:
Anjali: She's sitting at the kitchen table, watching them mash a fistful of banana against their cheek instead of getting it anywhere near their mouth. She smiles softly, resisting the urge to intervene as they make another determined attempt. When that fails too, a frustrated "Amma" comes from behind their chubby hand.
Anjali thinks she misheard. She leans closer, squinting at them. "Did you just--did you--"
The baby reaches for her face and says it again. Anjali lets out that lyrical laugh of hers, taking both of their little hands in hers and clapping them together.
"Yes, chellakutty! Amma. Am-ma." She's already calling for you, her face glowing with pride. "Darling, come here. They said it. Can you say it again, my lovely?"
Dmitry: He's holding them in his lap, bouncing them gently on his knee. He's been trying to coax the word out of them for weeks, but so far, it's only earned him a lot of enthusiastic babbling.
"Pa-pa. Can you say papa?" He waits, then sighs when they only stare back at him. "You're not ready. That's okay, kiddo. We'll get it eve--"
He stops when they finally say it back. The baby says it again, louder this time, and Dmitry's eyes are already watering as he calls for you.
"MC! Come here--they did it!" He presses kiss after kiss to their chubby cheek, laughing when they keep repeating themselves. "I know. Papa's right here."
Jong-woo: The baby is sitting on his chest, drooling directly onto his shirt while he patiently sounds it out for them.
"Appa. Appa-rago malhaebwa. Ap-pa." He takes their little hands and bounces them against his chest in time with each syllable. "Uri aegi hal su isseo. Appa. Appa-appa-appa."
He's starting to wonder whether he's been talking to himself for the past ten minutes when they finally answer him. Jong-woo's mouth falls open. "Mwo? Dasi haebwa. Appa?" They say it again, and he bolts upright with a shout of laughter. "Yes! That's right! Appa!"
He scrambles to his feet and carries them around the room in one excited lap, laughing through the tears gathering in his eyes while they stare up at him, delighted by the commotion.
Kailee: She's made teaching them their first word part of the daily schedule. Same time, same high chair, same stack of flashcards--although most sessions end with the cards on the floor and food smeared across both of them.
Today, the baby ignores the card in her hand and reaches impatiently for the spoon instead.
"Mama," they whine, tugging at her wrist.
Kailee's eyebrows shoot up. "Did you just say mama?"
Her whole face lights up and she immediately pulls out her phone. "You did. Oh my gosh, you did." She hands over the spoon without a fight, kisses their sticky cheek, and calls for you before she's even finished celebrating. "MC, come here! Our genius finally said mama."
Kalea: She hasn't been trying to rush them. They'll learn and grow at their own pace, and she's content to wait until they're ready. She's sitting outside with them in her lap, humming under her breath, when they grab one of her curls and yank.
"Ah--ow. That's mama's hair, baby. Can you let go, please?"
Their little voice echoes, "Mama," followed by another determined tug.
Kalea goes still, happy tears gathering along her lashes as she stares down at them. She doesn't even try to rescue her hair. She just gathers them closer, laughing as the tears spill over. "Yeah. That's me."
Luca: They're sitting beside his easel in their high chair, happily gnawing on the end of a clean paintbrush while he works. He glances over whenever they fall too silent, but they're perfectly content until the brush slips from their hand and clatters to the floor.
Their little fingers open and close toward it. "Dada," they call, staring at him expectantly.
Luca slowly peers around the canvas. "I see. Your first word, and you're already using it to order me around." He retrieves the brush, swaps it for another clean one, and presses a kiss to the top of their head. "I'm proud of you, kid."
Lucia: She's dead tired, slumped against the couch with the baby sprawled across her chest. Her eyes have only just drifted closed when they grab the front of her shirt and pull.
"What?" she mumbles, opening one eye. "I'm here. I'm awake."
The baby pats her cheek and says, "Mama."
Lucia stares at them, sleep disappearing from her face. "You waited until your other parent left the room?" She grabs her phone without loosening the arm around them. "Okay, do it again. Mama needs evidence." When they finally repeat it, her grin is so wide that she has to restart the recording twice because she keeps laughing over them.
Makai: He's settled them in his lap with a picture book open across both their legs, reading every sentence as though they fully understand the plot. The baby keeps slapping both hands against the illustrations, and when he tries to turn the page, they plant their palms over it.
Makai chuckles and nudges at one chubby wrist. "I can't tell you what happens next if you don't let me move."
They look up at him and say, "Dada," as though that settles the matter.
His fingers stop against the edge of the page. He looks down at them for a long while, his expression softening into a smile. He leans down to press a kiss to their cheek. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I'm Dada."
They still refuse to let him turn the page, so he reads the same one again without complaint.
Misty: The two of you have been locked in a competition over who gets the first word, and Misty is determined to win.
Every time she has the baby to herself, she's whispering, chanting, or singing some variation of, "Mama. Come on, bug. Suuuper easy. Ma-ma."
This time, the baby watches her with a gummy smile and finally copies her. Misty gasps, then throws both hands into the air. "Yes! I knew you could do it!"
She scoops them up and parades through the room, calling for you so loudly that the baby starts laughing too. "Tell them, bug. Who won? Mama won." Later, once the competition has been thoroughly celebrated, you catch her holding them close and asking them to say it again in a much softer voice.
Santiago: They're perched on his shoulders while he floats around the kitchen, fixing their snack with one hand. "Bananas or steamed peaches, amorcito?"
They slap the top of his head excitedly. "Peaches it is. Excellent choi--"
"Papá," they interrupt.
Santiago stops mid-step. "Qué dijiste?" He brings them down from his shoulders and holds them in front of him, already smiling. "Dilo otra vez. Papá."
When they repeat it, he breaks into laughter and kisses both of their cheeks until they start squirming. "Papá," he says, spinning them around the kitchen until they're both laughing, the snack completely forgotten.
By the time you walk in, they've turned it into a whole song--"Papá, papá, papá"--Santiago dancing with them in his arms and looking far too delighted to ever stop.
Santina: She's giving them a bath, piling bubbles onto their head until they've got a lopsided little crown. "Uy, qué linda/o! La reina/El rey del baño."
The baby splashes her square in the chest and chirps, "Mamá."
Santina gasps, one wet hand flying to her mouth. "Mamá? Sí, amorcito! Mamá!"
She cups their soapy cheeks and kisses the tip of their nose, getting bubbles on her own face in the process. She calls you in immediately, but refuses to let you remove the soap crown until the baby says it again.
