Elly was hungrier than ever, her little tummy growling as she spotted the shiny milk bottle in Daddy’s hand. She couldn’t wait another second—her tiny arms stretched out desperately, eyes wide and focused only on her favorite drink.
But today, Elly wasn’t satisfied with just waiting for Daddy to feed her. No, she wanted to prove she was big enough to do it all on her own. With a determined squeak, she grabbed at the bottle with both hands, pulling it toward her chest. The bottle was heavy, and her tiny fingers slipped several times, but she wasn’t about to give up.
She struggled, twisting her body and pressing the nipple against her mouth, but it tilted the wrong way, spilling little drops of milk down her chin. Frustrated, Elly let out a sharp cry, kicking her little legs in protest. Daddy tried to help, but she pushed his hand away, insisting with her squeals that she could handle it herself.
Her determination was fierce. She hugged the bottle tighter, clumsily lifting it again, her lips finally finding the right spot. The moment the warm milk touched her tongue, her cries melted into soft, satisfied gulps. Her tiny face relaxed, eyes closing halfway in delight, even as her little hands kept shaking from the effort of holding the bottle.
Daddy couldn’t help but laugh softly at her stubborn spirit. She looked so small, yet so brave, fighting to prove she was grown enough to feed herself. By the end, her belly was full, her fur messy with spilled milk, and her expression proud, as if she had won a great battle.
Elly cuddled into Daddy’s lap afterward, clutching the empty bottle like a treasure.
