This morning started with the unmistakable call of urgency—little Mickey had gone full-on starvation mode! The tiny monkey sat on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and a pout so dramatic it could win an award. His big eyes darted toward the milk bottle, and he let out an impatient squeal that echoed through the house.
“Daaaad! Milk! Now!” his expression seemed to shout, as he drummed his tiny fingers on the table.
I was doing my best to get the milk warmed to just the right temperature, but to Mickey, every second felt like an eternity. He clutched his tiny belly, rolled onto his back, and gave the most theatrical cry, as if the world was ending. “I’m fading, Dad! I can’t last much longer!” his antics seemed to say.
The moment the warm bottle was finally in my hands, Mickey sprang to life. His little feet pattered across the floor as he met me halfway. Grabbing the bottle with both hands, he held it close like it was his most prized possession.
The first sip brought instant calm. Mickey closed his eyes, savoring every drop, and let out a satisfied sigh. His earlier tantrum was forgotten, replaced by sheer bliss as he drank to his heart’s content.
Once he finished, he climbed onto my lap, patted my hand, and gave me a look that said, “Took you long enough, Dad, but I forgive you.”
It’s moments like these—filled with drama, urgency, and eventual sweetness—that make caring for Mickey such a joy. He may be demanding, but he knows how to keep life interesting!
