It was supposed to be a calm afternoon, but little Yuri had other plans. She sat on Mom’s lap, wiggling restlessly, her big round eyes locked on the bottle of milk resting on the table just out of reach. The sweet scent of warm milk filled the air, and her tiny tummy rumbled with impatience.
Mom, busy folding a small blanket, hadn’t yet picked up the bottle. “Just wait a minute, Yuri,” she said softly. But the word wait was not in Yuri’s vocabulary today.
She whined first, letting out a soft cry. Then she twisted in Mom’s lap, reaching for the bottle with both hands. When that didn’t work, her frustration boiled over. In one swift, unexpected move, Yuri’s tiny foot shot up — thump! — and landed right on Mom’s cheek.
Mom froze, more surprised than hurt. “Yuri!” she gasped, eyes wide in shock. Yuri, however, simply gave a tiny huff and pointed straight at the milk, as if to say, Now, please!
Trying not to laugh, Mom shook her head. “You’re such a naughty little monkey,” she sighed, but there was no real anger in her voice. She picked up the bottle, making sure it was warm enough, then finally placed it in Yuri’s eager hands.
The moment Yuri got it, she forgot all about her tantrum. She curled into Mom’s arms, sucking happily while her tail wrapped snugly around Mom’s waist.
Mom kissed the top of her head, smiling despite the cheek kick. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she whispered. And in that cozy moment, all was forgiven — at least until the next burst of Yuri’s fiery little temper.
