Chamroeun woke up with fire in his little chest and hunger twisting his tiny belly. The moment his eyes opened, he knew exactly what he wanted. Milk. Mommy’s milk. And he wanted it now. His small hands clenched, his face turned red, and a loud scream burst from his throat, shaking the quiet morning.
He kicked his feet, tail whipping back and forth in frustration. When Mommy came closer, he screamed even louder, tears spilling down his cheeks. His cries weren’t gentle. They were demanding, emotional, full of baby anger that only newborns know how to feel so deeply. Chamroeun arched his back, pushing against her arms, still crying, still shouting his need to the world.
Mommy stayed calm. She spoke softly, even as his screams filled the room. She wiped his tears, but Chamroeun slapped her hand away, crying harder. Hunger made him naughty, and impatience ruled his tiny heart. Every second felt like forever.
Finally, Mommy lifted him close, holding him tight against her chest. The warmth, the familiar smell, the steady heartbeat slowly reached him. The milk came, and the screaming stopped almost instantly. His angry cries faded into quiet gulps, his body relaxing with every sip.
His eyes softened. His hands loosened. The storm inside him settled. Moments ago, he was furious. Now, he was peaceful, clinging gently, eyelids growing heavy.
When he finished, Chamroeun sighed, resting his head on Mommy’s chest. No more screams. No more tears. Just a sleepy baby who finally felt safe and full.
Mommy smiled, stroking his head. She understood. Hunger turns love into anger, and need into noise. But with patience and care, even the loudest cries become quiet comfort.
Chamroeun drifted into sleep, milk-drunk and calm, his earlier screams already forgotten. In Mommy’s arms, he was no longer naughty—just a loved baby learning how to feel, trust, and grow every single day.
