Baby Dan was at it again. For the second time that morning, he had peed through his diaper, leaving a wet trail on the living room floor. His mom, exhausted but determined to stay patient, took a deep breath.
“Alright, little monkey, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, scooping him up with a practiced ease. She had started calling him “monkey” ever since he began climbing over everything like a tiny, mischievous explorer. Lately, “Monkey LiBi” was his full title—short for “Little Big Trouble,” a name well earned.
As she placed him on the changing table, Baby Dan giggled, completely unbothered by the chaos he had caused. His mother, however, was already on her second outfit of the day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. She reached for a fresh diaper, but Dan wriggled, determined to escape.
“Stay still, Monkey LiBi,” she pleaded, trying to fasten the straps. But Dan was on a mission. With one swift kick, the clean diaper flew out of her hands, landing on the floor. He cackled in delight, unaware that his mother was fighting the urge to groan in frustration.
Patience. That was the key. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Finally, she managed to secure the diaper and get him dressed again. As she lifted him into her arms, he snuggled into her neck and cooed, his tiny hands grasping at her shirt.
And just like that, her frustration melted.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Baby Dan might have been full of surprises, but at the end of the day, his mom wouldn’t trade her mischievous little monkey for anything in the world.