A normal day of a father with children, children and more children
July 16, 2025
Morning glory
I woke up before dawn to the soft gray light filtering through our bedroom shoji screens (see Shoji screens on Amazon). My wife was still sound asleep beside me, curled up under her floral blanket after her long night shift at the hospital. I lay there a moment listening to her gentle breathing, feeling grateful for her and the quiet stillness of early morning. Careful not to wake her, I slipped out of our futon and tiptoed to start the day.
My son Haru was already stirring in his room, our energetic little boy rubbing his eyes sleepily. I prepared him breakfast. He entertained his sister Yuki when they sat at the table. Soon we were out the door, driving through the familiar streets in our tiny red car. The morning air was cool and fresh, and Haru chattered about a drawing he made in class, his eyes bright with pride. I smiled and stole a glance at him – these short drives to his elementary school have become a special father-son time, moments I treasure deeply.
Cheerful voices
After dropping Haru off with a hug at the school gate, I headed to the kindergarten where I work as a teacher. As I walked into my group´s room, a chorus of cheerful voices greeted me – “Ohayō gozaimasu, Sensei!” – little faces beaming up at me. The room was filled with the lively chaos of children zipping up backpacks and teachers double-checking attendance. Today was an exciting day: we were taking the kids on an excursion to a countryside farm. I could feel their excitement buzzing in the air as we lined up to board the bus, everyone giggling and wiggling in their seats. One of the younger boys grabbed my hand as the bus started rolling, and I reassured him with a grin that we’d have a fun adventure together.
The excursion to the japanese countryside
The farm was a green expanse under the late morning sun, framed by distant mountains and rice paddies. Children ran free on the grassy field, their laughter echoing as they raced to see who could reach the barn first. At the petting area, I knelt with them to feed a gentle goat; little Aoi squealed in surprise when its soft nose nuzzled her palm, then burst into giggles.
Another group was busy picking plump cherry tomatoes and filling their small baskets with serious concentration, as if harvesting treasure. I watched my class explore with wide-eyed wonder – this is why I love my job. Even though keeping up with a dozen excited five-year-olds was exhausting, seeing their curiosity and joy made every sore muscle worth it. On the ride back, many of them dozed off against each other’s shoulders, clutching their tiny souvenir bags of veggies. I quietly hummed a folk song to myself on the bus, content and proud of how well they behaved today.
Shopping for the family
After work, I stopped by our local grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner. Strolling the aisles, I tossed tofu, fresh vegetables, and Haru’s favorite strawberry yogurt into the shopping basket. I paused in front of the fish section, debating if I should splurge on the nice cuts of salmon for tonight – payday is still a week away, after all. In the end I opted for the more affordable mackerel, reminding myself it’s not about an extravagant meal but a heartfelt one (buy books about japanese cuisine on Amazon). As I checked out, I also grabbed a small pack of my wife’s favorite green tea cookies as a surprise treat. Arms full of groceries, I headed home in the early evening light, thinking about how lucky I am to have a family to shop for.
Happy family time
In the evening, our home was filled with the cozy sounds of family life. Yuki, my 19-year-old daughter, had finished her university classes for the day and eagerly set up an old board game on the living room floor. The dinner dishes were done (I insisted my wife rest on the sofa with those cookies after her tiring shift), and now it was playtime. Yuki’s laughter bounced off the walls as I made a dramatically bad move in the game, prompting her to tease that I was losing my touch.
I feigned outrage, then we both burst out laughing. It amazed me to realize how grown-up and confident she’s become – yet here she was, happily spending her evening playing a silly game with her dad. Haru had already fallen asleep, so it was just the two of us kneeling over the game board, whispering and giggling like co-conspirators. I cherished every minute, knowing that these moments with Yuki, on the cusp of adulthood, are becoming more precious and rare.
A day full of love and purpose
Now the house is quiet and still. I’m back in bed, the same spot where I greeted the day, with my wife peacefully dozing again by my side. My body is pleasantly tired – the kind of tired that comes from a day well lived – but my mind is awake, replaying today’s scenes in a gentle haze. I think about the challenges that come with my work: the modest paycheck, the way some people in our society have looked down on male kindergarten teachers or call it an easy job. There were times in the past I felt embarrassed telling others what I do, or worried that I wasn’t providing enough financially. But as I lie here, I feel a deep sense of fulfillment.
I was there to walk my son to school this morning, to guide my lively class on an adventure, to put food on our table, and to laugh with my daughter at night. Being present for my own children and those in my care at work – this is the life I always quietly hoped for. The world may not measure success in bedtime stories or field trips or family board games, but in my heart, these are the moments that matter most. Today was an ordinary day, yet so full of love and purpose. And for that, I am truly grateful.
