Little Lyka was already pacing restlessly by the feeding mat, her tiny tail twitching with impatience. The moment she saw her mom walk toward her with the milk bottle, she couldn’t contain herself anymore. Her eyes widened, lips trembled, and then—an explosive tantrum began.
She threw herself on the floor dramatically, rolling back and forth while letting out loud, high-pitched cries. She reached out with her little arms, trying to grab the bottle before it was even uncapped. Her face scrunched in frustration, and she began thumping the soft cushion with her feet.
“Lyka, just wait one more minute!” her mom said gently, trying to prepare the milk without spilling. But Lyka wasn’t hearing any of it. She let out an even louder screech, jumping up and climbing halfway up her mom’s leg like a determined little rebel.
The moment the bottle was finally handed to her, Lyka grabbed it with both hands, instantly silent. Her eyes softened, and her tiny mouth latched on quickly, gulping the warm milk like she’d been starving for days.
As she drank, her tantrum faded into soft, satisfied hums. Her tail curled in comfort, and she looked up with wide, innocent eyes, as if nothing had happened just seconds before.
Her mom chuckled softly, watching her baby transform from a dramatic diva into a calm little angel in mere moments. That was Lyka—full of emotion, full of energy, and always making her presence known.
But even in her wildest tantrums, she was deeply loved. Because behind the noise was just a baby who wanted her mom and her milk—nothing more, nothing less.
