

Morning sun peeks in; Tamia’s eyes widen like sunrise. She shakes her colorful beads—clack, clack—and giggles. "Beautiful beads," Mom says, smoothing short black hair. Tamia pats medium brown curls and chirps, "Pretty!"

Bath time comes; Tamia frowns at water. "No ocean," she squeaks, scrunching tiny shoulders. Mom kneels, smiling. "Float on Mama’s hand," she says. Warm cup pours slowly; Mom sings, "Safe splash."

The dryer roars; Tamia covers ears. "Too loud, too hot!" she cries. Mom lowers heat, moves it back. "Listen—soft whoosh like wind," Mom says. Tamia peeks; the whoosh makes beads dance.

All done, Tamia sees herself and beams. She shakes her colorful beads—clack, clack—like tiny bells. "So pretty!" Mom cheers. "No touch," Tamia says, hugging herself. Mom nods, "We ask first, and you choose."