Jasmine had always been a little princess in her own way — full of opinions, full of dramatic moods, and especially full of attitude when it came to bath time. That morning, Mom tried to guide her gently toward the basin, warm water already prepared, but Jasmine planted herself firmly on the ground and turned her head all the way around, as if to clearly say No! Never! Not today!
Her tiny brows furrowed, her lips pushed forward into a stubborn pout. She glanced at the water, then at Mom, and let out a sharp squeal — part protest, part temper, and completely Jasmine. She twisted her head again, refusing even to look at the soap. Mom reached out to lift her gently, but Jasmine clung to the mat with all her little strength, kicking her feet and shaking her head dramatically.
Inside, she wasn’t angry about water. She was scared — baths meant losing control, feeling small, being wet and vulnerable. She didn’t know it was for her good. She only knew she wanted Mom’s arms, not the tub. Her little heartbeat sped up, tail curling tightly around her leg, eyes rounding like shining marbles full of worry.
Mom didn’t give up. Instead of forcing her, she sat beside Jasmine and spoke softly, rubbing her back and showing her the water was warm and safe. Little by little, Jasmine loosened her grip. When she finally allowed herself to be carried, her tantrum softened into trembling whimpers. Mom dipped her slowly, gently, like holding something precious.
The warm water hugged her body. She blinked, surprised — it felt nice. A sigh escaped her tiny mouth, and her rigid body relaxed. Soon, she leaned against Mom’s hand, no longer fighting, just trusting.
From defiance to comfort — bath time became love time. And Jasmine learned she was safe in every moment, especially in Mom’s care.
