Linda stood beside the wooden table, her tail flicking slowly as she watched tiny newborn Ronaldo squirm in the warm cloth. Morning bath time had arrived, but Linda was clearly not in the mood. Her whole body looked heavy, almost melting into the floor as she let out a long, dramatic sigh. Dad called her twice, then three times, but she only blinked back with her laziest expression, refusing to move an inch.
Ronaldo, tiny and fragile, let out a soft moan as he sensed movement around him. His little hands opened and closed, searching for comfort while waiting for someone to pick him up. Dad gently scooped him into a small towel, then turned to Linda again. “Come on, girl… you’re supposed to help carry him. Don’t be lazy today,” he pleaded.
Linda stretched exaggeratedly, like she had been working all night and deserved a vacation. Her eyes looked half-asleep, and she wobbled toward Dad with the slowest, most unwilling steps ever witnessed. When she reached them, she paused, tilted her head, then flopped onto the floor dramatically—clearly telling everyone she had no desire to take part in bath time.
Ronaldo let out another tiny cry, almost as if complaining about Linda’s unhelpful mood. Dad couldn’t help but laugh softly. He knelt down next to Linda, nudging her belly gently. “You’re the big sister… just a little help,” he whispered.
Finally, after one more dramatic sigh, Linda stretched her arms lazily and touched Ronaldo’s towel. She didn’t lift him—she simply gave a light push as if that counted as helping. Dad smiled, shaking his head. Even her effort was lazy, but at least she tried.
With Ronaldo tucked safely in Dad’s arms and Linda dragging her feet behind them, the little family headed to the bathroom.
It wasn’t perfect teamwork—but it was perfectly them.
