Little Donald had waited as long as his tiny heart could manage. His stomach growled loudly, and his patience slowly disappeared with every passing second. At first, he only whimpered, rubbing his belly and looking around with hopeful eyes. But hunger has no mercy, especially for someone so small.
Soon, Donald’s cries grew louder and sharper. He stomped his feet, waved his arms, and let out frustrated screams that shook his whole body. His eyes filled with tears, not because he was angry alone, but because his body desperately needed food. Waiting felt impossible. Every second without milk felt like forever.
He crawled back and forth restlessly, glancing toward the kitchen, then back again, as if his gaze alone could make food appear. His mouth opened wide as he cried, voice cracking with impatience. The calm baby he usually was vanished, replaced by a hungry little soul fighting discomfort the only way he knew how.
Mom hurried, hearing the urgency in his cries. She knew this wasn’t bad behavior. This was hunger overpowering self-control. When the milk finally came, Donald grabbed at it eagerly, crying even while trying to drink. His hands shook as he held the bottle close, afraid it might be taken away again.
Slowly, with each swallow, his body relaxed. The screams softened into quiet sounds. His eyes blinked slowly, heavy with relief. The storm inside him settled as warmth filled his belly.
After finishing, Donald leaned back with a long sigh. His earlier impatience melted into calm exhaustion. He was quiet now, peaceful, as if nothing had happened.
Hunger had pushed him past his limits, but care brought him back. In the end, Donald didn’t need discipline—he needed understanding, quick comfort, and a full tummy. And once he had that, the world felt safe again.
