Tourtour sat on the wooden floor, dripping wet, his tiny arms crossed tightly over his chest. His fur was soaked from his unexpected bath, and he was not happy. His mom had cleaned him up after his muddy adventure, but now—where was his towel?!
He looked around. No warm, soft towel to wrap him up. No gentle rubs to dry his fur. Nothing!
His lips quivered. His tail flicked. His little fists clenched.
Then—“AAAAHHH!”
Tourtour screamed in frustration, stomping his feet. His mom, busy cleaning up the mess, turned to look at him.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tourtour pointed angrily at his wet fur. “Where’s my towel, Mom?! You forgot me!!”
Mom sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Tourtour, you’re fine! You’ll dry off soon.”
Not the answer he wanted.
Tourtour gasped dramatically, then flopped onto the floor, wailing. “You don’t care about me anymore!” he sobbed, rolling side to side like a miserable little ball.
Mom tried not to laugh. “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” she said, finally grabbing the towel.
But now, Tourtour was really mad. He turned his back, refusing to let her dry him. “No! Too late! I’m already sad!”
Mom chuckled and sat beside him. “Alright, alright. Come here, my grumpy boy.”
Tourtour peeked at her from the corner of his eye, hesitated, then finally jumped into her arms.
She wrapped the towel around him and rubbed his fur gently. “Better?” she asked.
Tourtour sniffled and nodded. Finally!
His tantrum was over, and he cuddled into his mom’s warmth—just like he wanted
all along.
