Gross, Kyungsoo thinks, watching his brother’s youngest child, thirteen month old Seungri, fling his food around the room. At one point, he gets it in his hair; mashed vegetables sliding down his hair and onto the food tray attached to his high chair. It is revolting.
Kyungsoo’s mother coos at the video. “Kyungsoo, you were just like that, when you were his age.”
He wrinkles his nose at that. Thank god he doesn’t have to cope with this kind of mess. Jinsol is twelve, and can feed herself just fine, thank you very much. In fact, he has never had to deal with this kind of mess.
“Mum,” he says. “I don’t know why you and Seungsoo-hyung keep showing me these videos.”
“Oh, you’re just jealous because you don’t have any videos of Jinsollie at that age,” she says.
“I’m sure they exist,” Kyungsoo says. “Her grandparents will have some. That doesn’t mean I need to see my daughter flinging food around the room, nor do I need to show all of her family members. I don’t really care that Seungri doesn’t really want to eat, that’s Seungsoo’s business.”
“Spoilsport,” his mother says. “It doesn’t make you want another one?”
“Another kid?” Kyungsoo scoffs. “No. My perfect daughter is enough.”
“What would your husband say if he heard you say that?”
Kyungsoo puts on his Chanyeol Voice. “My extraordinarily perfect, little sporty daughter is enough.”
His mother rolls her eyes.