It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon, but little Minea had other plans. Mom had just finished cleaning the living room and thought it would be a good time to give Minea her snack. She gently picked her up and placed her on the wooden chair near the table, hoping she would sit patiently while Mom prepared the food.
The moment Minea’s tiny bottom touched the chair, her mood changed instantly. Her little eyebrows furrowed, and her face turned bright red like a ripened cherry. She stomped her tiny feet against the chair seat and let out a loud, high-pitched scream that echoed through the house.
“WAAAHHH!” she yelled, throwing her arms in the air, shaking her head furiously. It was as if the chair itself had offended her.
Mom tried to calm her down, crouching to her level and speaking softly, “Minea, it’s just for a moment. Mommy’s getting your snack ready.” But Minea wasn’t having it. She twisted her body, trying to slide off the chair, her little hands gripping the edge tightly for balance. Her tail flicked back and forth in frustration.
Her voice grew louder and sharper, almost like she was scolding Mom for daring to make her sit in one place. Her eyes glistened with stubborn tears, and her tiny chest heaved with every deep breath between screams.
Finally, Mom sighed, realizing snack time would have to wait. She picked Minea up from the chair, and instantly, the crying stopped. Minea clung to her like a baby koala, her face still flushed but her body relaxed.
Mom shook her head with a smile, whispering, “You win, little boss.” Minea nestled into her neck, satisfied that she’d made her point loud and clear — chairs were definitely not her thing.
