Baby Nana sat stiffly on the kitchen floor, her tiny arms crossed tight against her chest, her face scrunched into the angriest pout she could manage. Daddy stood a few steps away, holding the milk bottle she wanted more than anything — but this time, he wouldn’t give in. She was being slowly weaned, and Nana absolutely refused to accept it.
Her tail flicked. Her eyebrows twitched. Then came the explosion.
Nana threw her head back and released a dramatic, furious cry that echoed through the whole house. It wasn’t her normal hungry whine — this was pure outrage, a fiery protest from a baby who believed the world was being unfair. She stomped her little feet, slapped the floor, and glared right at Daddy as if demanding, How dare you?! I want MY bottle!
Daddy knelt beside her, speaking softly, trying to calm her, but Nana wasn’t having any of it. She turned her head away sharply, refusing to look at him. Her tiny chest rose and fell with emotional little huffs, and tears pooled in her eyes — not from pain, but from the betrayal she felt deep inside her tiny heart.
She crawled toward him, trying once again to reach the bottle. When Daddy pulled it back, Nana let out a heartbreaking scream, throwing her whole body forward in frustration. She slapped the bottle with her palm as though trying to reclaim it by force.
But Daddy scooped her up gently, holding her close. Even angry, Nana melted into his arms, her fury wobbling into sadness. She pressed her face against his shirt, letting out soft, pitiful sobs as he stroked her back.
Slowly, he offered her a small dish of warm mashed fruit — not the bottle she wanted, but something to soothe her belly. She sniffed it, still angry… but hunger won. She ate, still grumbling like a tiny storm cloud in Daddy’s arms.
She wasn’t ready to give up her bottle yet — and Daddy knew the fight wasn’t over.
