Naughty Marry sat inside the woven basket, her tiny body shaking with impatience. The moment she realized her snack wasn’t coming fast enough, her face twisted with frustration. A loud cry burst out, sharp and demanding, echoing through the room. She kicked the basket’s side, making it rock as her temper took control. Waiting was impossible for her today.
Her cries grew louder, faster, almost breathless. Marry’s body stiffened as she screamed, shaking with emotion rather than illness. It looked scary, like a seizure, but it was her extreme tantrum spilling out all at once. Her hands clenched tightly, eyes squeezed shut, voice cracking with urgency. She wanted her snack now, not later, not after explanations.
Mom rushed over immediately, kneeling beside the basket. She spoke calmly, placing a steady hand on Marry’s back to ground her. Marry continued crying, chest heaving, legs trembling as frustration burned through her small body. The basket creaked again as she shifted, demanding attention with every sound she could make.
Mom didn’t panic. She stayed firm but gentle, reminding Marry to breathe. She waited for the crying to slow, watching closely to be sure Marry was safe. Slowly, the shaking eased. The screams softened into rough sobs. Marry opened her eyes, wet with tears, searching Mom’s face for relief.
Only then did Mom bring the snack closer, showing it but not rushing. Marry reached out weakly, still sniffing, her anger fading into hunger. When the snack touched her hands, she quieted instantly. She ate quickly at first, then more calmly, body finally relaxing against the basket. The storm passed as fast as it came. Mom stroked her head, proud she had waited until Marry calmed down. Naughty Marry wasn’t bad—just overwhelmed by need. That day, she learned a small lesson about waiting. And Mom learned again that patience, not fear, is what turns chaos back into calm.
