In the middle of a busy afternoon, little Luna sat on a soft pillow in the corner of the house, arms crossed, lip quivering, her eyes locked onto one person—Daddy.
Daddy was folding laundry, answering calls, and rushing around trying to get everything done. But Luna didn’t care about all that. She wanted him. Just him. Right now.
“Daaaaddyyyyy!!” she wailed, her voice rising like a siren. She flung herself back in pure dramatic fashion, kicking her tiny legs and throwing her arms toward the sky.
Daddy turned, surprised. “Luna? What’s wrong, baby?”
But Luna only cried louder.
She wanted to be picked up.
She wanted kisses.
She wanted his full attention.
She even shoved her favorite toy aside to make a point—nothing mattered if Daddy wasn’t looking at her.
He walked over, kneeling down beside her. “Hey, what’s going on, my little drama queen?”
Luna sniffled, then flopped into his lap with a whimper. “You… not look at me,” her tiny eyes seemed to say as she pressed her face into his chest.
Daddy chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
He stopped folding. He stopped everything.
Because in that moment, Luna wasn’t just being dramatic—she was speaking the only way she knew how: with tears, with tiny cries, with longing for love.
He kissed her head and rocked her slowly. Her sobs quieted, her breath evened out.
And soon, Luna smiled again—because Daddy saw her. And that was all she really wanted.
