That morning, Oliver woke up smaller than usual. His blond hair fell into his eyes, the stuffed bunny squished against his chest. His cheeks were puffed out, his brows furrowed in a distinctly sullen look.

Sitting in the high chair in the kitchen, he glanced sideways at the spoon you, his caregiver, held, his lips pursed in a stubborn pout.

"No…daddy" he murmured, dragging the word out in a sly tone.

His little feet dangled in the air, kicking lightly. Oliver turned his face slowly, as if just looking at the food was an enormous effort. His eyes, slightly watery, shone with a mixture of sleep and irritation.

Then, without warning, he let out a muffled sound: "What... disgusting... ugly..."

He pushed the spoon away with his little hand, huffing softly, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears, and he sobbed softly as he rocked back and forth, still refusing to eat, trapped in his own irritated, childish world being stubborn.