If there's one thing I didn't expect in this reincarnated life, it was the advantage of being a baby. People always say babies are like sponges, soaking up everything around them. And boy, were they right. Between dodging Mom's cleaning frenzies and Dad's obsession with perfect folds, I was picking up the local language faster than a politician breaks promises.
People assume you're an adorable blob of cuteness, incapable of doing more than giggling and crying. They talk over you, around you, sometimes even to you—but never with you. This worked perfectly for me because it gave me the ultimate cover for my secret mission: learning the language.
"Lanterns have to be cleaned twice before the festival," Dad said, hanging another polished masterpiece from the rafters. "Twice!! Once isn't enough!"
"Why do you think I got a new mop last week?" Mom shot back, pointing to a gleaming piece of wood and bristles like it was a sacred relic. "Do you want the Hendersons to gossip again?"
The Hendersons. If I had a nickel for every time Mom or Dad mentioned that family, I could probably buy a second crib. Apparently, their obsession with cleanliness wasn't entirely self-motivated. They had rivals, and nothing motivated them more than the thought of being out-cleaned by their neighbors.
As they bickered, I sat quietly in my crib, absorbing every word like the genius sponge-baby I was. At first, the words were just random sounds, but after weeks of intense listening (and a fair bit of guesswork), everything was finally starting to click.
Mom walked over with a rattle. "Andreas, this is kloss," she said, holding up a block with a picture of a cow on it.
"That's a block, Mom," I thought but decided to humor her. I reached out, babbled, and gave the rattle a satisfying shake.
"Good! Kloss! Block!" she repeated enthusiastically, as if I'd just passed a calculus exam. I guess baby milestones were kind of a big deal around here.
Meanwhile, Dad leaned over from his lantern-cleaning duties. "He's catching on quick. Must take after me."
Mom gave him a look. "Takes after you? Please. The kid has my organization skills."
Their competitive parenting amused me to no end. Honestly, I'd learned more words just from listening to them argue over who I resembled more. For instance, the word for "dishcloth" came up a lot. Also, "smudge," "perfect," and "why can't you listen to directions, Evan?"
The real game-changer came when we went to the village market. If our house was a training ground, this place was an all-out battleground of sounds, smells, and sights. Every stall had its own rhythm, its own vocabulary. There were kids laughing, vendors shouting deals, and the faint buzz of gossip weaving through the crowd.
As we passed the baker's stall, I couldn't help but grin at her cheerful greeting. "Oh, there's my favorite little charmer!" she called, waving at me. "Learning your words yet, Andreas?"
I waved back with all the charm a baby could muster, which, judging by her giggle, was a lot.
"And he's a little flirt, too!" she teased, leaning down to pinch my cheek. "You'll break hearts someday, I bet."
"Lady, you have no idea," I thought with a smirk.
The real challenge came when Mom stopped to chat with Mrs. Appleby, who was always ready to unleash the latest village gossip. My ears perked up as they spoke in quick, hushed tones.
"Have you heard? The Hendersons are planning three pies for the contest this year," Mrs. Appleby said, her voice dripping with drama.
Mom gasped. "Three? Oh, they think they're so clever. Well, let me tell you, I've got a recipe for peach cobbler that'll put their pies to shame."
Dad wandered over, clearly uninterested in the pie wars. "Lanterns, dear," he reminded Mom. "Focus on the lanterns."
"Later," she waved him off. "We'll show those Hendersons who's boss."
Back at home, I tested out my growing vocabulary in secret. "Lantern. Pie. Block. Block pie?" Okay, so maybe I wasn't ready to give speeches yet, but progress was progress. Each word felt like another piece of armor in my arsenal—a step closer to navigating this world like a pro.
And the best part? No one suspected a thing. To them, I was just a giggling, babbling baby. But to me, I was on the brink of a breakthrough, ready to surprise everyone when they least expected it.
"Guess I'll let them clean their lanterns while I clean up this language," I thought, stacking my blocks like a boss.