Smallest Selena spent the whole afternoon playing by herself, unaware of how tired her tiny body was becoming. She rolled across the soft floor, chased invisible friends, and tapped little objects with endless curiosity. No one told her to stop. No one noticed how often she paused just to catch her breath.
Her energy slowly faded, but her heart still wanted to play.
Selena sat down at last, legs stretched out awkwardly, her head wobbling slightly. That was when it happened. Her mouth opened wide—much wider than anyone expected from such a tiny baby. A huge yawn escaped her, slow and dramatic, showing just how exhausted she truly was. Her eyes squeezed shut, then opened again, watery and heavy.
She tried to keep playing. One small hand reached forward, then dropped back to her side. Another big yawn followed, even longer than the first. Her mouth stayed open for a moment as if her body was begging her to rest. Selena blinked hard, fighting sleep with quiet determination.
She had played alone for so long. No cuddles. No arms to stop her and say it was time to rest. Just her own little world and endless effort.
Finally, her head tipped forward. She startled herself awake, then let out a soft sound, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. The strength drained from her shoulders. The playful spark in her eyes faded into gentle calm.
Selena curled up where she sat, thumb brushing her lips but never quite reaching them. One last giant yawn stretched her tiny face, and then her eyelids slowly closed.
Sleep came quietly, wrapping her in the rest she needed but didn’t know how to ask for.
In that peaceful moment, smallest Selena looked fragile and innocent, her big yawns telling the story her body couldn’t speak. Playing alone had tired her out, but it also showed her strength. Even so, every little heart deserves someone to notice when play turns into exhaustion, and when it’s time to be held, protected, and gently guided into rest.
