In the heart of a peaceful home, little Queen Koy was already up, bright-eyed and waiting. Morning was her favorite time—not because of breakfast, not even for play—but because it meant Mommy Time.
Mom usually sat with her, brushed her fur gently, gave her morning cuddles, and sang a silly little tune before heading to work.
But today? Mom was late.
Koy paced the living room floor, her tiny arms crossed tightly, tail flicking with attitude. Her face was scrunched in frustration, and her feet stomped with every step.
“Where is she?” her eyes seemed to say. “This is our time!”
She climbed up on the chair, then jumped onto the window ledge, peeking out, scanning the yard as if Mom had vanished from the planet.
When she spotted Mom still running around inside the kitchen, packing her bag in a rush, Koy lost it.
She puffed her cheeks, let out a loud huff, and plopped herself right in the middle of the doorway—blocking the exit.
Mom turned the corner and laughed gently. “Koy, what are you doing, sweetie?”
Koy looked away dramatically and refused to move. Her way of saying: You’re late. And I’m not happy.
Mom dropped her bag, scooped her up, and kissed her little forehead. “I’m sorry, my queen. Just a crazy morning, but I didn’t forget about you.”
She gave her extra kisses, brushed her fur quickly, and sang the morning song, even if it was rushed.
Koy’s frown softened, her head leaning into Mom’s shoulder. The mood faded. She just wanted to feel special.
And as Mom walked out the door, Queen Koy watched from the window, now calm, hugging her little blanket—her royal heart full again.
