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“Hold still, Eumppappa. Please,” San begged as he slipped her front paw back into the denim vest.
Fixing her blue sweatsuit and adjusting the denim hat, he smiled at the dog—this was her best look yet.
“Dad, look at this,” Gyuvin called from the top of the playground. He did a half spin before descending the slide on his stomach.
“Please not again,” he cried, dashing towards his son. Gyuvin shot down the plastic at breakneck speed, limbs flailing.
Sadly, San was a moment too slow, and Gyuvin crashed face-first into the rubber mulch.
“Gyuvinnie, we talked about this,” San sighed, scooping his son up in a tight embrace. “Feet first on the slide.”
“That’s why I spun first, " Gyuvin mumbled, sparkly eyes watering as he looked up at his father, with only a light scrape to the cheek.
San gently placed a Band-Aid over the cut, followed by a soft kiss to his little dumpling’s forehead.
Gyuvin was an energetic and playful kid, which meant he had a talent for hurting himself. It wasn’t a normal day if his son was not running into objects or tripping on air. Still, he had a soft spirit like his deceased mother, the beloved Princess of Wales, Diana Spencer.
“Can I go play now?” Gyuvin tugged at San’s button-up, trying to squirm loose.
“Yes, but be careful, please. I’m low on bandages,” he smiled, squeezing his son tightly, making him giggle.
Returning to the bench, San pat his greyhound before flipping open a copy of “The Mandarins” by Simone de Beauvoir.
Looking up ever so often, he noticed Gyuvin had made a new friend. The black haired boy was ostentatiously dressed in a leopard print tracksuit and light-up designer sneakers.
The children were animatedly discussing something, their short arms moving in excitement. Returning to the novel, San smiled to himself.
Moments later, his head shot up at the distressed cries of his son. The two boys were tumbling around on the floor, swiping at each other like feral cats.
Tossing the book aside, he rushed over to separate them, Eumppappa following close at his heels.
Grabbing both children by the scruff, he lifted them apart. Gyuvin knew San’s strength, so he didn’t fight the hold, only glared. But the other child continued to kick and thrash.
“This is Balenciaga, you peasant!” The little boy spat, “put me down!”
“How rude.” San quirked an eyebrow, “Who taught you that nasty word?” He gasped, setting the child down and covering Gyuvin’s ears.
“My Baba says all poor people are peasants.” He examined San’s button-up with a much keener eye than a kindergartner should have.
Ignoring the sassy child, San knelt next to Gyuvin, adjusting his hat and righting his overall strap.
“Dad," Gyuvin tapped on his thick bicep, eyes storming with fury, “Ricky called, Eumppappa’s outfit chǒu è.”
“It is ugly,” Ricky interrupted, pointing to the greyhound. “She should be in pink, or a classy pattern.”
“My daddy made that outfit, take it back!” Gyuvin shouted, and San barely caught Gyuvin by the waist when he tried to lunge again.
“Alright,” San sighed, fed up with the conversation. “We’re going home.” He lifted Gyuvin to leave, but Ricky tugged on his pant leg.
“Wait!” The boy cried in distress, “Quibing has to apologize for ripping my sweater.”
“Where are your parents?” San questioned, quirking an eyebrow at Ricky.
The boy opened his mouth to speak, but an obnoxious and expensive car horn cut through the air. San watched a Rolls-Royce pull up to the curb by the park. A man holding a beagle wearing a matching animal print tracksuit stepped out. San didn’t have to guess; this was obviously Ricky’s parent.
“Bàba!” Ricky cried, rushing to hug him.
After a quick moment, the man surveyed Ricky’s appearance and spoke quickly to him in Mandarin. The pair returned wearing the same displeased expressions.
“I am Xiaojun, first heir to the esteemed Krispy Kreme dynasty.” He stated, then paused like he was waiting for San to start grovelling or crying.
“Okay?” San was silent as they glared at each other. “Your son is very rude.” He explained, placing Gyuvin back down.
“And yours is violent.” The man spat back, “my son tells me he was attacked for speaking the truth.”
San’s eyebrow twitched as he tried to remain civil. He wanted to be a good example for Gyuvin, but this pompous duo was making it hard.
“I think this can be settled with an apology,” San suggested, pushing Gyuvin forward.
“Agreed. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” Xiaojun nodded, placing an arm around Ricky. “Go ahead.”
“They should both apologize,” San stated, noticing the pair waiting expectantly.
“For what?” Xiaojun and Ricky cocked their heads in the same way, staring blankly.
“For insulting my dog.” San said, then motioned to the strands of Gyuvin’s hair stuck in Ricky’s zipper, “and when you hurt someone, you should apologize.”
“Well, the dog is dressed like a Russian drug dealer from the 90’s.” Xiaojun observed, frowning at the greyhound.
“I’ll have you know, I make all my dog’s clothes and some of my son’s.” San pouted, face reddening as he stepped forward.
“Then you should be reported for animal and child abuse,” Xiaojun smirked deviously.
Grabbing a fistful of fabric, San glared at the obnoxious man.
“You’ll be banned from every Krispy Kreme in the world if you hit me.”
“I don’t care about your diabetes empire, and I don’t need advice from someone in leopard print.” San seethed before scooping up the dog and searching for his son.
He stormed over to Gyuvin, who was happily playing with Ricky, like they hadn’t been trying to kill each other moments ago.
He lifted the child, who reached towards Ricky and kicked against San's hold.
Furious, San collected their things, ignoring Gyuvin’s pleas to stay.
“Don’t talk to me, or my son, or my dog EVER again!” He yelled over his shoulder, then stomped away from the park.
