Fresh out of the bath, baby Monica was a dripping bundle of fluff wrapped in a towel—looking both adorable and annoyed. Her tiny ears twitched, and her fur stuck out in every direction like a soaked little puffball.
Dad had just finished rinsing her when he called cheerfully from the other room, “Monicaaa! Come here, sweetie!”
But Monica was not having it.
Her eyes widened. Her little mouth opened—and then came the shout heard across the house.
“EEEEEEHHH!!!”
She screamed so loudly the birds outside fluttered from the trees. Dad rushed back in, towel still in his hand, looking confused.
“What happened, baby?!”
Monica pointed dramatically at the bathroom floor, then back at herself, then threw her arms in the air like she had been personally betrayed by bath time. Her little body wiggled with frustration, still wet and slightly shivery.
She shouted again, voice full of baby monkey drama:
“AEEEHHHHH!!”
Dad couldn’t help but laugh. “Ohhh, come on. It’s just water!”
But Monica didn’t want explanations. She stomped her tiny feet, slapped the towel off, and let out one more shriek before jumping into Dad’s arms—where she finally began to calm down, clinging tightly with a soft sniffle.
Dad wrapped her up again, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “I get it. No more cold baths, okay?”
Monica blinked, still sulky, but her tail curled around his arm gently.
In just minutes, the shouting stopped, and she rested her head on Dad’s shoulder—clean, warm, and safe. Her anger melted away like the bath bubbles had earlier.
Because no matter how loud she yells… Dad always comes back to carry her through the storm. 🛁❤️🐒
