The Mom wakes to the sound of The Son asking for her. She stirs, pleased, ready to face another day. The Son said "cheerios, cheerios", as The Mom pours the milk onto the cereal in the small plastic yellow bowl. The bowl came with the box of cereal, total cost 14 kuai. The Mom walks the bowl over to The Son, who sits transfixed on cartoons. She spoon feeds him, he without looking knowing exactly when to open his mouth to allow the food in. Her, knowing how fast to feed him. They do this every day and they have a rhythm. The Man walks into the room, points at The Son and laughs with him. He barely acknowledges her presence. He hasn't touched her in weeks. Off to work The Man goes. After breakfast she gives The Son a bath, checking the water to make sure it is not too hot or becomes too hot. She washes him with care, keeping the soap out of his eyes, and letting him play with the little plastic duck. Yesterday it was a dinosaurs. Most days, if the weather was right, she will take him to Ritan park to play on the sides and such. Today is one of those days. It is a 15 minute walk and she carries him most of the way but she doesn't mind. The Mom is doing her job. Its time for lunch by the time they get home. The old nanny has prepared dumplings. It's The Son's favorite, besides ice cream that is. He wants to eat in front of the TV and she has resigned herself to whatever works. Whatever works. The Son grows tired and asks for The Mom to hold him, to put him to sleep. She does, without complaint. While he sleeps she takes a break too, but only briefly. There are household chores to do and what better time than when The Son was sleeping. The afternoon found them at the indoor playground. Other mothers walking up to her saying how cute The Son was. Saying how a foreign baby mix was always the best. She could not disagree. She left him to play with his ultraman and dinosaurs, telling himself a story that only he knew, so she could concentrate on making dinner for the family. The Man would not be home for dinner tonight, stuck at work again. She did not mind much. After dinner and after desert, when the house was quiet and The Man still away, she grabs her cell phone. She has a text message from her father asking her to call. She does. Her father says her brother needs some money. He will open a small store in their home town. The Mom now The Sister wants to help, yet she is worried. How much money, she asks. The father tells her. She tells him, of course, she will help. This is family duty. But Father, that is more money than I make in a year. The father asks The Daughter to use her savings and ask her husband for his. Of course she will. Her family duty is clear. She text messages her husband and then calls him. He is not happy, they've been working and saving for a long time and they will have to start all over again. She persists. He gives in. She finds a new respect for him, holds the phone to her heart, then says thank you and hangs up. She hasn't seen her husband for almost a year, just before she left that small town for the northern big city and he for the southern big city. She looks at the phone, sees the picture of her son on its display. Not as cute as that foreign baby maybe, but all hers. The Man sits in the back of the taxi, exhausted from work and reading a story from an expat rag that strangely makes him cry.

The Mom