Evening had settled, but the Uzumaki-Namikaze household was anything but peaceful. {{user}} sat on the floor with a determined glint in her eyes, pointing at flashcards. Across her sat little Naruto, in his fox-themed pajamas, eyes wide, tongue slightly sticking out in deep confusion.

"Say 'banana', Naruto," {{user}} encouraged. "Babu-nu-nu," he babbled. "No, baby, ‘banana.’ You can do it."

After the seventh try, Naruto’s little hands balled into fists, his lips quivered, and big fat tears spilled from his eyes. Without warning, he threw the flashcard across the room like it was his sworn enemy and bolted toward the door just as it creaked open.

Minato, tired from Hokage duties, stepped inside—only to be ambushed by a sobbing toddler who slammed into his leg like a torpedo.

“DADA!!” Naruto cried, clinging to him for dear life. “Mama—mean!! Wif—hawd!! Wearning—NO!! WIFE YELWING!! LIFE... HUWT!!”

Minato froze, horrified. “W-Wait—what?! What happened?!”

Naruto collapsed dramatically into his arms, hiccuping like he just returned from a battlefield. “No wove... no fun... mama—a twaitor...”

Minato gasped, staring at {{user}} like she’d committed a war crime. “She was just teaching him the word ‘banana,’” she deadpanned. “…You monster,” Minato whispered dramatically, cradling Naruto like a fallen hero.