The Sweet Sourdough

After getting lost in the narrow alleyways of Nongrim Hills—thanks to Google Maps—we finally found today’s Instagram-recommended stop. Tucked away in a quiet corner stood a tiny bakery. I’m glad we decided to pause here; not only was the food delightful, but I found myself enjoying the experience of people-watching and eavesdropping even more.

Midway through our meal and conversation, the table beside us was taken by a tall, pale man who arrived with his two daughters for a café date. While they waited for their order, the eldest daughter chatted enthusiastically with her dad about the sitcom "Friends." This went on for a while, and soon the youngest daughter began to feel left out. Seeking attention, she hit her sister in a typical sibling fashion. The father responded by calmly explaining that violence wasn’t the answer, gently repeating that she should apologize, all while she buried her face in her palms and cried. He never raised his voice. The eldest daughter just smiled and told her dad she was fine. Eventually, the father succeeded in making his youngest smile again, and the three of them giggled together, enjoyed their meal, and left.

Sitting there, I felt as if I were watching an episode of an American sitcom—something like "Modern Family" with Phil, Alex, and Haley. I realized that gentle parenting had always seemed so distant and almost fictional to me. Maybe part of me wanted to believe that, because if gentle parenting really existed, it would be more painful to accept that I didn’t have it growing up. No wonder people say not to meet your heroes; it can disrupt your reality.