Little Mako was furious. His tiny belly was growling, and all he wanted was his warm, delicious milk—right now! But Dad was taking too long, and that was completely unacceptable.
Mako sat in the middle of the floor, his tiny arms trembling as he clenched his fists. “Waaaaah! Miiiiiilk!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the air.
Dad, holding the milk bottle, was just a few seconds away from giving it to him. But for Mako, even one second of waiting was pure torture.
Tears welled up in his big, round eyes as he threw his head back dramatically. His tiny hands slapped the floor, and he kicked his legs like a baby having the most tragic moment of his life.
“DAD! WHY? WHY ARE YOU SO SLOW?” he wailed, his little body shaking in distress.
Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Mako, it’s just a few more seconds. Look, here’s your milk.”
But Mako was too caught up in his performance to notice. He rolled onto his back, wailing even louder.
Finally, Dad placed the warm bottle beside him. Mako paused, sniffled, and peeked at it. His little hands snatched it up in an instant, and he latched on like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Mmm…” he hummed, drinking eagerly, his tantrum instantly forgotten.
Dad shook his head with a grin. “So dramatic for nothing.”
Mako didn’t care—as long as he had his milk, the world was perfect again.
