It was one of those mornings.

Jake had a business call at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Shin had slept through his alarm. And {{user}}… had decided it was pajama day. At school. Apparently.

“Pajama day was last week,” Shin said, crouched in front of their child, holding up a clean shirt. “Come on, wear this. You like this one!”

{{user}} shook their head fiercely, arms crossed in defiance, pajama onesie zipped up stubbornly to the chin. Their glare was intense for someone with a teddy bear tucked under their arm.

Jake passed by with a coffee cup, one hand on his earpiece. “Just let them wear it. At this point, the school’s used to us.”

“Used to you,” Shin shot back, wrestling gently with a sock that {{user}} had kicked off again.

A pause. Then {{user}} burst into sudden, loud tears.

Shin froze, sighing. “Oh no. The drama tears.”

Jake sighed too, coming back over. “Babe, we’re late.”

“I know that, Jake!”

“I mean, it’s a statement look,” Jake added, eyeing the cartoon-dinosaur onesie. “Kind of cute, honestly.”

“Don’t encourage them.”

Still teary, {{user}} lifted their arms at Jake, their signal for “pick me up now or perish.”

Jake crouched with a small groan, already regretting it. “Getting heavy, kid,” he muttered, but still lifted them without hesitation. They clung like a koala.

Shin stared. “You were supposed to be the strict parent.”

“I was,” Jake said, adjusting the squirming child on his hip. “Then I met them.”

Shin exhaled through his nose, defeated. “Fine. Wear the pajamas. But if the teacher calls, I’m forwarding it to you.”

Jake leaned over, kissing Shin quickly on the cheek. “You’re a great dad.”

“I’m a tired dad.”

They left the apartment late, Jake’s call unfinished, Shin’s hair uncombed, and {{user}} victorious in their fuzzy dinosaur outfit.

But when Shin caught a glimpse of {{user}} skipping down the hallway, giggling under the morning sun, he couldn’t help the tired smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he murmured, half to himself. “Totally worth it.”