The life of a six year old is very eventful. One minute they want nothing more than a party in their honor for writing their name all on their own, it's backwards but they deserve a party none the less, and in the next they’ve chosen a career to map out. Jina’s aspirations always evolve rapidly. Two weeks ago I was sitting down to have a tea with the future “queen” of South Korea and then three days later I’m stuck in the bathroom, washing ink out of Ai’s fur from her tattooing excursions.

  “Mommy! Thank goodness you’re home!” Jina exclaims as soon as the front door clicks shut behind me, the pitter patter of her tiny feet against the hardwood floor echoing with her voice, “ Come quick! I need some aces...assis...sista. I need help, Mommy.”

 “Yeah?”

  “Yes! You’re the only doctor who can do it. Please!”

  “Am I specializing in Gaho’s again today?”

  “No, it's much, much worse.” She warns dutifully and I pray that I won’t be prying paper machete bandages out of cat fur for the next few days.

  “It’s not Ai...Right?”

  “It’s Daddy.”

  “Daddy?” I gasp, gauging if I’ve given enough of a reaction by the way her tiny face forms a frown.

  “Yes, right this way, doctor.” Jina orders, and I have to fight off the smile that twitches at the corner of my mouth when the image of my husband covered in Hello Kitty bandaids crosses my mind. “Mommy, this is cereal. Please stop laughing.” She interjects, catching me and refusing to be anything but professional in her position as head nurse here at “Kwon General”.

  My womb nugget tugs me up the stairs with her little fingers wrapped around two off my own as we make our way down the upstairs hallway and to her bedroom. The lavender walls are covered in paper drawings of x-rays and heartbeats. The carpeted floor is riddled with several toy doctor kits, open with the instruments haphazardly strewn across the path between her furniture. In the center of it all lies Jiyong, looking prim and proper while laying in our daughter’s canopy bed and feverently typing on his phone.

  “Ahem!” Jina clears , commanding attention from everyone in the room. “ You’re opposed to be sick, Daddy.” She declares and the distinct sound of Jiyong’s phone hitting the mattress pad beneath him sounds through the room.

  “Sorry, Princess.”

  “Nurse, Princess.”

  “I’m sorry, Nurse Princess.” He reiterates with a sheepish grin and a cheeky wink as we approach the bed.

  “What seems to be the problem, sir?” I ask seriously, not wanting to be scolded by my nurse again.

  “I’m hurt babe, real ba-”

  “Daddy!”

  “Sorry. Dr. Mommy, you’re the only one that can save me!” Jiyong groans as he throws his head back onto the pile of pillows at the top of her bed to add dramatic effect.

  “ Oh my...Nurse Jina, may I have a stethoscope please? I think I know what’s wrong but, we should check his vitals to be sure.”

  “Yes doctor.” She agrees, turning on her heel to dig through the discarded toys behind us.

  “Vitals? You know she’s six, right?” Jiyong teases in a whisper as he watches the apple of his eye search for the necessary tool.

  “You’re just sour because I’m earning brownie points for for acting like I should.”

  “It’s not a favorite parent competition.”

  “It never is when you’re losing.” I snicker, breaking my professionalism to stick my tongue out at my begrudging lover.

  “Here you are doctor.” She interrupts, making us both jump in surprise before I’m handed the plastic instrument.

  “Hmm…” I frown and look to Jina with worry etched into my features as I ease the cool circular pad over the cotton of Jiyong’s shirt. “It might be just as we feared…”

  “What is it doc? I can take it. Just give it to me straight.”

  “I’ll have my nurse run a few more tests, Mr. Kwon. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions without testing everything we possibly can.”

  Jina nods as if to dismiss me and I take to busying myself with tidying her room. Jiyong and I both agreed that it's something that she needed to learn to do on her own but I couldn’t help but be a softy. Neither could Jiyong and I found myself hiding my smile behind my hair as I watched the way he let our offspring poke and prod at him. Jiyong was always seen as someone who would make a great parent, but seeing the joy he had whenever he bent to Jina’s will always reminded me just how right the world had been with their assumptions.

  He let her examine his eyes, looking left, right, up, and down as she instructed. His “Ahhs” echoed out into the hall with every order to be louder so she could scribble down the results, infact the only time he stopped her was to inform that daddy temperatures were not to be taken in the way she thought they should be.

  “Here’s his chart.” Jina whispered while I placed the last pile of unused toys into the chest at the foot of her bed.

  “Oh, this is bad.”

  “Is he tournament?”

  “I’m afraid he is terminal, nurse.” I mumbled, watching Jiyong’s eyes shift between the two of us curiously.

  “What is it doctor! What’s wrong with my daddy?”

  “Jina, I’m afraid your father...He’s...Well, he’s terminally adorable.”

  “No!” Jina gasped, throwing her pint sized body onto Jiyong’s.

  “Can I be saved?” He questioned as his hand automatically reaching out to rub soothing patterns across Jina’s back.

  “There’s only one cure, but I’m not sure if you can handle it.”

  “Tell me doc, I’ll do anything!”

  “Anything Mommy! Anything!” My assistant chirped, climbing onto the bed with her father to bounce beside him.

  “Kisses.”

  “Kisses? That’s the only way?”

  “Yes, 10,000 milligrams of them. That’s all I can prescribe, Mr. Kwon. If you should accept this treatment, Nurse Jina will happily administer the first 5,000 milligrams now.” I confirmed with a hand gesture to our giggling baby girl’s puckered lips.

  “What about the other 5,000?”

  “Oh, I’ll personally perform the second half of procedure, don’t you worry.”