It was a quiet Saturday morning, and the sunlight streamed gently through the kitchen window. Lala, a curious five-year-old with big brown eyes and boundless energy, had been left alone for just a moment. On the table stood a steaming cup of Mom’s special tea—her “do not touch” tea, as she always called it. The fragrant scent of jasmine and honey drifted through the air, too tempting for Lala to resist.
She climbed onto the chair, trying to get a better look. “Just a tiny sip,” she whispered to herself, her small hands reaching for the delicate mug. But her grip slipped, and with a loud clink—splash! the tea tipped over, spreading like a golden river across the table and dripping to the floor.
Lala froze. Her eyes darted around. The sound of Mom humming in the other room sent a jolt of panic through her. She grabbed paper towels, frantically wiping, but the tea had seeped into the tablecloth and stained the floor. Her little brain raced. Think, think!
She balled up the soaked towels and shoved them under the sink. Then, she flipped the tablecloth over to hide the wet stain and placed a vase of flowers strategically in the middle. Finally, she stood back, arms crossed, nodding proudly at her “fix.”
Just then, Mom walked in.
“What happened to my tea?” she asked, noticing the empty spot and the faint scent of jasmine still in the air.
Lala tried her best innocent face. “Maybe the cat did it?”
Mom looked at her, then at the oddly placed vase, and finally at the suspiciously damp floor. She raised an eyebrow.
“Lala…”
Lala’s shoulders dropped. “I just wanted a tiny sip.”
Mom knelt down, pulled Lala in for a hug, and said, “Next time, just ask. And maybe we clean up together, okay?”
Lala nodded. “Okay, Mommy. But… can I still have a sip next time?”
Mom smiled. “Only if you promise to hold the mug with two hands.”
