Mom knelt on the floor, holding the warm milk bottle just within sight. She called Yuri softly, encouraging her to walk forward like she had practiced before. The smell of milk filled the air, meant to motivate and comfort. But instead of moving closer, Yuri froze, her small body stiff with resistance. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened with growing frustration.
Mom called again, this time clapping gently, showing patience and hope. Yuri answered with an angry cry. She dropped down, refusing to stand, and slapped the floor with her tiny hand. Walking felt like too much effort today. She wanted to be carried, not challenged. The milk was tempting, but her temper was stronger.
Yuri turned her face away, voice rising louder with every second. Her tail flicked sharply, signaling her anger clearly. Mom sighed softly, staying calm despite the tension. She knew Yuri was capable, but she also knew forcing her would only break trust. The milk bottle waited as Yuri screamed, chest heaving with emotion she couldn’t explain.
Mom stayed where she was, speaking gently, reminding Yuri she was safe and loved. Slowly, the anger began to fade. Yuri peeked back at the bottle, then at Mom’s face. Her cries softened into grumbles. She pushed herself up, wobbling, still upset but curious. One small step followed another, shaky but brave.
When Yuri finally reached Mom, she collapsed into her arms, anger melting into relief. Mom hugged her close and offered the milk immediately. Yuri drank eagerly, eyes closing as comfort replaced frustration. She hadn’t walked perfectly, and she hadn’t walked happily—but she tried. And Mom was proud. That moment wasn’t just about milk. It was about patience, learning, and love that waits instead of pushing.
