Hiroshi picked up his miso soup and took a sip without making any sound.
"My wife's miso soup today has a most rich and mellow flavor."
"You flatter me, my husband."
Shin-chan also picked up his soup bowl and took a big gulp.
"Burp."
A loud belch burst from his mouth and echoed through the quiet dining room for two seconds.
Misae's chopsticks froze in midair. "Shin-chan."
"Mm?"
"You can't make noise when you burp either."
"But burping isn't something I can control."
"Elegant people even burp silently." Misae glanced at him. "Keep eating."
Shin-chan picked up his chopsticks again and brought a piece of pork cutlet toward his mouth in the most elegant posture possible.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Misae put down her chopsticks.
"Shin-chan."
"Mm?" Shin-chan's voice was muffled.
"When you chew, keep your mouth closed."
Shin-chan closed his mouth and kept chewing.
But as he chewed, his mouth opened again.
After finally swallowing the pork cutlet, Shin-chan let out a long breath.
"Honored Mother."
"Mm?"
"This child's elegance is almost used up."
Hiroshi also spoke from the side. "Misae, isn't this about enough?"
"No." Misae's voice was firm. "The book says it takes at least twenty-one days to form a habit."
"Twenty-one days?"
"Yes. After twenty-one days, elegance will become muscle memory."
Hiroshi and Shin-chan looked at each other.
The atmosphere at the dining table became very subtle.
The three of them lowered their heads and ate in slow motion.
The pork cutlet on the table was no longer steaming.
Shin-chan poked the pork cutlet on his plate with his chopsticks. "Honored Mother."
"Mm." Misae lifted her head.
"The pork cutlet isn't crispy anymore." Shin-chan poked it again with his chopsticks. "It got soft."
"Elegant dining naturally takes time." Misae set down her chopsticks and picked up a napkin to dab the corner of her mouth. "If the food gets cold, we can heat it again."
"But reheated pork cutlet isn't pork cutlet anymore." Shin-chan put down his chopsticks and propped his cheeks with both hands. "Reheated pork cutlet is re-cooked pork cutlet."
Hiroshi coughed lightly, using his eyes to send Shin-chan a signal that said, This father deeply agrees.
Shin-chan tilted his head, suddenly thinking of something. "Honored Mother, what does the baby eat inside your belly?"
"The baby eats what Mom eats."
Shin-chan tilted his head and thought about it. "Then Mom just ate cold pork cutlet. Does that mean the baby is eating cold pork cutlet too?"
Misae's chopsticks paused.
"Will the baby think elegant pork cutlet doesn't taste good?"
Hiroshi coughed softly from the side. "This husband has something to say, though I do not know whether it should be said."
Misae looked at him and waited.
"The way of elegance is certainly meaningful." Hiroshi leaned slightly forward. "However, if pursuing elegance causes delicious food to lose its warmth, would that not be putting the cart before the horse?"
Misae stared at Hiroshi for several seconds. "What are you trying to say?"
"What this husband means is..." Hiroshi glanced at the pork cutlet. "If we could set elegance aside for the moment and eat heartily, perhaps—"
Before he could finish, a loud fart exploded from the direction of the dining table.
Then Shin-chan's voice came from across the table. "Honored Father, how could you fart?"
Hiroshi's mouth opened.
"Honored Mother said elegant people even burp silently." Shin-chan stood up from his chair.
"Wait." Hiroshi raised his hand.
"This child is very disappointed in Honored Father." Shin-chan closed his eyes and shook his head.
Hiroshi turned to Misae. "Misae, I—"
"And it stinks." Shin-chan gave him no chance to explain. "The baby definitely smelled it inside Mom's belly too."
Hiroshi took a deep breath and turned to look at Shin-chan. "Shin-chan, this behavior of yours is very lacking in class."
Shin-chan's mouth opened into a circle. "Really?"
"Really." Hiroshi nodded. "This father believes that as the eldest son of the Nohara family, you should behave with more dignity."
"I'm not that amazing." Shin-chan scratched his head. "If you praise me like that, this child will become proud."
The corner of Hiroshi's mouth twitched. "This father was not praising you."
Before he could finish, another loud fart exploded from under the table.
Hiroshi slowly turned his head to look at Misae.
Misae's expression was complicated, three parts embarrassment and three parts relief. "Let's just forget about elegance."
"My wife, do you truly mean that?" Hiroshi smiled at her.
"I do."
"No more elegance?"
"No more elegance." Misae stuffed a piece of pork cutlet into her mouth and chewed extra hard.
"Since my wife has announced the end of elegance..." Hiroshi reached out and grabbed a piece of pork cutlet directly with his hand. "Then this husband won't hold back."
"Dad is using his hand!" Shin-chan's eyes widened.
"Elegance is over." Hiroshi brought the pork cutlet to his mouth. "Now we enter Nohara Hiroshi's true mode."
As he chewed the pork cutlet, he added vaguely, "Can I get another bowl of miso soup?"
No "my wife," no "this husband." Everything had returned to normal.
Misae stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed.
"Get it yourself."
Shin-chan slid down from his chair and circled around to Misae's side. "Mom, you said elegance is over."
"Yes."
"Then can I sing to the baby now?"
Misae swallowed the last bite of pork cutlet and looked down at Shin-chan. His hands were already raised above his head and pressed together.
"Sing."
Shin-chan's body and hands began swaying rhythmically. "Little white snake—wiggle, wiggle—wiggle, wiggle—"
Misae placed one hand on her belly. The baby inside seemed already familiar with this melody and moved gently.
After Shin-chan finished singing, he leaned over and pressed his face against Misae's belly.
"The baby says it sounds good."
"And you know that again?"
"Of course I know." Shin-chan lifted his head. "Because the baby is a child of the Nohara family."
After dinner, Hiroshi cleaned up in the kitchen.
Shin-chan lay across Misae's lap, saying something, probably making up another new story for the baby.
Hiroshi walked back to the living room carrying the teapot. "My wife, the tea is here."
"Didn't we say we're not being elegant anymore?" Misae turned to look at him.
"Force of habit." Hiroshi placed the teapot on the coffee table. "Changing how I speak takes twenty-one days."
Misae glared at him, then walked to the coffee table and closed the prenatal education books one by one.
"What are you doing, Mom?"
"Returning the books."
"No more prenatal education?"
Misae stacked the books into a pile and lifted them. They were quite heavy.
"No more."
"Why?"
"Because whether the baby's first word is 'Mom,' or 'poop,' or whatever other messy nonsense..." Misae placed one hand on her belly. "It will still be a child of the Nohara family."
That was the Nohara family's true mode.