As the first rays of sunshine touched the earth, casting a warm golden glow over the village, Milo’s mom decided it was time for his morning bath. The air was still fresh and cool, with the promise of a bright day ahead. Milo, however, had no interest in the beauty of the morning. The idea of a bath was something he could never agree with, no matter how many times his mom tried.His mom, with a soft smile, picked up Milo from his cozy spot inside the house, where he was already moaning in protest, sensing what was coming next. “Come on, Milo,” she coaxed gently, carrying him toward the backyard near the kitchen. The morning light made the backyard look peaceful, but for Milo, this place was a battleground. A place where water — his greatest enemy — awaited.
Milo clung tightly to his mom’s arm as she prepared the small basin of water, his face already scrunched up in displeasure. His tiny hands gripped her as if hoping that maybe, just this once, she would change her mind and let him escape the dreaded bath.
But his mom, patient as ever, continued to hum a soft tune as she placed his old diaper to the side. It was dirty and needed a good cleaning, but first, Milo’s turn had come. The moment the first splash of water hit the basin, Milo’s whimpering began to rise, transforming into a full-blown cry as she gently placed him into the water.
“No, no, no!” Milo seemed to scream in his own language, his tiny body stiffening in resistance. His mom tried to soothe him, her hands working quickly to wash the dirt from his fur. His cries grew louder with each passing second, echoing across the yard, even though the water was lukewarm and her touch was gentle.
Milo twisted and squirmed, trying to escape the ordeal. He splashed water everywhere, his small arms flailing as if he could swim away from the situation. His mom couldn’t help but chuckle at the dramatic display, even though she knew it wasn’t funny for Milo. His big eyes were filled with frustration, his mouth wide open as he cried with all his might, making it clear that water was his sworn enemy.
“Almost done, Milo,” she whispered, trying to calm him, but the little monkey wasn’t convinced. His cries didn’t let up for a moment, and as she poured water over his back, Milo arched his body in protest, shaking his head furiously. He wanted nothing more than to leap out of the basin and find refuge anywhere dry.
Finally, the bath was over, but Milo wasn’t satisfied yet. His mom wrapped him in a soft towel, drying him off as his cries gradually died down to whimpers. He shot her an indignant look, as if to say, “Why do you do this to me every day?” She smiled and kissed his wet forehead, knowing he’d be back to his usual self soon enough.
With Milo now dry and clean, she turned her attention to his old diaper. It was stained and needed a good scrub. As she worked on cleaning it in the backyard, Milo sat on the ground, still sulking. He made a point to stay as far from the water basin as possible, casting suspicious glances at it every now and then. His morning was clearly ruined, at least in his eyes.
Once his mom finished with the diaper, she lifted Milo back into her arms, and just like that, his mood shifted. Milo, ever the mama’s boy, snuggled close, wrapping his tiny arms around her neck, his earlier protests forgotten. The warmth of the sunshine and the comfort of his mom’s embrace were all it took to calm him.
By the time they walked back inside, Milo had already stopped sulking, though he still eyed the basin warily, as if it might chase him down. His mom gave him one last hug before setting him down to play.
For now, Milo was content. But tomorrow? Tomorrow, the bath battle would resume, as it always did, with Milo’s cries loud enough to rival the morning birds.
