“Ma… mah? Say ma… mah.”

The gurgled response was enthusiastic and sounded nothing like the words Shuhua repeated. “That’s alright,” she assured the infant in her arms, “We’ll keep practicing. Ma…mah. Ma…mah.”

The baby gurgled back, babbling nonsensical sounds back at length. Drool clung to his little lips, dripped down his chin and left a patch of Shuhua’s nightshirt notably darker.  

“When did he—” Soojin yawned as she walked into the nursery, “—wake up?” Her feet drug across the floor, her words gravelly.

“About an hour ago.” Next to the window, the tiny infant prattling story after story into the nape of her neck, Shuhua dropped her voice to a whisper, “Did we wake you?”

“The lack of you did,” Soojin pointed out, joining the pair by the window. Still groggy, she asked, “What are we learning today?”

“Mama.”

Arms around Shuhua’s waist, chin propped on her shoulder, Soojin smiled. It was lazy around the edges, but filled with undeniable affection. “That’s a good word.”

“The best.”