Max had already made up his mind—he wanted to go outside now. The little monkey stood by the door, pacing in tiny frustrated circles. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the breeze danced through the leaves. It was the perfect day for play, but Mom was busy cleaning up their space.
Max wasn’t having it.
He marched over to her, eyes wide with impatience, and let out a loud, dramatic scream that echoed through the room. “Eeeeeek!” His little body shook with frustration as he reached up, grabbed his mom’s finger tightly, and began pulling with all his might.
Mom glanced down, surprised. “Max! What’s going on?” she asked with a raised brow.
He tugged harder, then pointed toward the door with a whiny screech, as if saying, “Outside! Now, please!”
Mom tried to reason with him, gently saying, “Just a minute, sweetie. Let me finish this.” But Max wouldn’t hear it. His little legs stomped on the ground, and he made an exaggerated pout, eyebrows scrunched up with pure toddler drama.
He yanked her finger again, this time with a pleading look in his eyes that melted her heart. “Okay, okay!” she finally laughed. “Let’s go outside before you pull my whole arm off!”
The moment the door opened, Max shot out like a rocket, leaping into the soft grass with a victorious squeal. He rolled, climbed a low branch, then flopped onto his back to feel the sun on his belly.
Mom smiled, watching her energetic little boy finally get what he wanted.
“Next time,” she giggled, “just ask nicely—no finger-yanking required
