ChiChi was already in a stormy mood before the day even began. She sat on the table with her tiny legs tucked in, her eyebrows squeezed together like a little boss of trouble. Mom tried to offer her warm milk, the same bottle she happily drank every morning — but not today. Today ChiChi wanted drama.
The moment Mom placed the bottle near her, ChiChi shoved it away with a sharp squeal. Her voice echoed through the room, high and demanding, as if the whole world needed to know she wasn’t satisfied. Mommy sighed softly, still patient, gently rubbing ChiChi’s back. But instead of calming, ChiChi threw herself onto her tummy, kicking wildly, rolling left and right, creating chaos like a tiny tornado. She wanted milk — but only when she decided, not when Mom asked.
Mom lifted her up again, whispering sweet words, hoping to soothe her. ChiChi looked at the milk, then at Mom, then back at the milk again — her little face wrinkled in frustration. She wanted attention more than anything. She wanted Mom to hold her, rock her, pamper her first. Milk was secondary — tantrum came first.
So Mom sat beside her, stroking her tiny head with love. Slowly, the crying softened into sniffles. ChiChi peeked up with wet eyes, lips trembling, cheeks puffed. Mom offered the milk again — this time gently touching it to ChiChi’s lips while holding her close. ChiChi resisted for a moment, but hunger finally won. She latched on and began drinking, still grumbling, but calmer now.
As the milk warmed her belly, her anger melted away. She leaned into Mom’s chest, tiny fingers clutching her shirt as if saying “Don’t leave me. Stay.”
From tantrum to comfort — ChiChi needed more than milk. She needed love, closeness, and patience, which Mom never failed to give.
