Milo sat on the green chair beside the water well, his tiny face scrunched up in anger. His mom was preparing to give him his usual morning bath, but today, things felt different. The second she picked up the bucket of water, Milo’s mood soured. His little body tensed up, his feet kicking in protest as he let out a loud wail.
His mom sighed softly, trying her best to stay calm. She had grown used to these tantrums. Bath time wasn’t always easy with Milo, but today was worse than usual. She knew Milo could be stubborn, but the way he was wriggling and crying now was unlike anything she’d seen before.
“Milo, sweetheart, it’s just a quick bath,” she cooed, trying to soothe him. But her gentle words did little to calm him. His tiny hands clenched into fists, and tears streamed down his face as he cried harder, his small body shaking with convulsions.
His mom gently splashed water on him, hoping that once he felt the cool water, he would relax. Instead, Milo screamed louder. He shook his head furiously, refusing to let the water touch him. His little legs kicked against the green chair, as if the very thought of the bath was too much to bear.
“Milo, stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” his mom pleaded, but her words were drowned out by his loud cries. She paused, watching as her baby seemed to spiral into a fit of frustration. His face had turned bright red, and his breath came in rapid bursts between sobs. It was clear he was overwhelmed.
Tears welled up in his mom’s eyes too. Seeing Milo in such distress tugged at her heart. She wiped her own tears away with the back of her hand, determined to calm him down. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’m right here,” she whispered, leaning in to comfort him.
But Milo wouldn’t be soothed. His tiny body tensed even more as he threw his head back, crying as if the world had ended. He seemed inconsolable, his tantrum fueled by an overpowering wave of frustration.
Desperately, his mom tried to wash him as quickly as possible. She carefully poured a little water over his head, but as soon as she reached for the soap, Milo’s sobbing turned into a fit of coughing and hiccups. His chest heaved, and for a moment, his mom feared he would hurt himself with how upset he was.
She quickly set aside the soap, abandoning the idea of a full bath. “Alright, no more, no more,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath. Milo continued to cry, but she could see the exhaustion starting to set in. His tiny arms dropped limply to his sides, and his sobs quieted to small, tired moans.
“I’m sorry, Milo,” she whispered, holding him gently against her chest. “We’re done now, I promise.”
Milo’s cries softened into whimpers as his mom gently patted him dry with a towel. His little body, now clean but still trembling, curled up in her arms as he buried his face into her shoulder. The storm had passed, but it had left both of them drained.
Once she finished drying him, his mom sat him back down on the green chair, this time offering him a bottle of warm milk. Milo sniffled, his red eyes blinking tiredly as he hesitated. After a moment, he accepted the bottle, sucking on it quietly as his mom rocked him gently.
“See, that’s better,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “No more baths today.”
Milo’s tantrum had taken its toll on both of them, but as he drank his milk and slowly calmed down, his mom felt a sense of relief. Morning bath time had turned into a battle today, but in the end, they were back in each other’s arms, as close as ever.
