Yuri sat on the floor with her arms crossed tightly against her chest, her face twisted into a dramatic pout. Her eyes stayed fixed on the empty milk bottle, and every second of waiting felt unbearable to her. She let out a low cry, then another, louder one, full of complaint. In Yuri’s small world, waiting was the hardest thing to do.
Mom knelt beside her calmly, even as Yuri’s mood grew heavier. Yuri rocked her body back and forth, letting out moaning sounds, showing just how unhappy she felt. Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears, not because she was starving, but because patience felt unfair. She wanted milk now, not after preparation.
Mom gently touched Yuri’s shoulder and spoke softly, advising her not to be so dramatic. She explained with a calm voice that the milk was coming and crying wouldn’t make it faster. Yuri listened with one ear, still whining, still frowning, but her crying slowly lost its sharp edge.
Yuri lay down dramatically on the floor, turning her face away in protest. Her small fingers tapped the ground impatiently while she waited. Mom stayed close, not giving in to the tantrum, but not walking away either. Her presence alone made Yuri feel a little safer, even while she stayed moody.
Finally, the sound of the bottle being prepared reached Yuri’s ears. She lifted her head, eyes wide with hope. When Mom returned with the warm milk, Yuri’s mood melted instantly. The crying stopped. The drama ended. She drank eagerly, holding the bottle tightly as if it might disappear again. Mom smiled gently, stroking her head. Waiting had been hard, but Yuri learned a small lesson that day. Milk comes faster with calm than with tears. And sometimes, being patient brings comfort just as sweet as the milk itself.
