Jona had woken up expecting a warm morning bath with her sister Jody, as they always did together. Bath time was Jona’s favorite moment — warm water, soft scrubbing, gentle cuddles from mom. But today everything changed. Jody, the mischievous one, jumped away and ran across the yard the moment she heard the splash of water. She didn’t want a bath, and she definitely didn’t want to sit still. She darted behind the baskets, tail flicking with excitement. Jona reached her tiny hands out, wanting her sister beside her, but Jody was already gone.
Jona sat there confused at first, looking at the water, then at Mom, then back toward the yard. Her lips quivered. Her sister had left her alone. The sadness came quickly, mixed with frustration. Jona’s face scrunched up into an angry cry, one hand slapping the floor as if demanding Jody return. Her body trembled, the kind of cry that carries more feeling than sound. She looked toward the exit, hoping Jody would come back, but no one appeared. Her little chest hurt with loneliness, her trust shaken by that tiny act of abandonment.
Mom tried to soothe her, lowering her hand to stroke Jona’s back, but Jona pushed it away, wanting her sister more than comfort. She cried louder, voice echoing through the room like she was calling Jody back with her heart. After a moment, Jody peeked from the corner, ears perked, curious about the loud drama she caused. Mom gently guided Jody toward the bath, slowly, patiently. When Jody finally came back, Jona’s angry cry softened into relief. She leaned close, touching her sister as if to say don’t leave me alone again. Soon they bathed together, splashing, fighting, then forgiving — just like siblings do.
