Tiny Linda had just woken up from her nap, full of energy and opinions. As Mom approached with a clean diaper in hand, Linda’s eyes widened.
She knew that diaper.
She did not like that diaper.
Before Mom even reached her, Linda stood up, puffed out her little chest, and let out a sharp yell:
“EEEK! EEEK! NOOOO!”
Mom tried to keep calm. “Linda, come here, just for a moment.”
But Linda wasn’t listening. She ran in circles, tiny feet stomping across the floor, yelling louder than ever. She even stopped once, crossed her arms, and shouted again like a furious little queen:
“EEEKKKK!!!”
Mom knelt down and smiled. “Come on, my little wild one. It’s just a diaper.”
Linda shrieked louder and threw herself on the floor dramatically, kicking her feet and pounding her tiny fists. Her face was scrunched in pure frustration, and her tail whipped back and forth like a stormy flag.
She was not going down without a fight.
Finally, Mom scooped her up gently, letting her cry it out in her arms. “I know, I know,” she whispered, rubbing Linda’s back.
Little by little, Linda’s breathing slowed. The screams turned to sniffles, and her wild squirming settled into soft hiccups.
Then, from her mom’s lap, Linda peeked at the diaper.
Mom smiled again. “Just for a minute, then you can go play.”
After a long pause, Linda gave a tiny nod. No words, no smiles—but acceptance.
Mom got the diaper on—finally—and rewarded her with a big cuddle and her favorite rattle.
The storm had passed. For now.
And Linda? She may have lost this battle, but she made sure everyone knew her opinion first.
