A Tong sat on the cold floor, anger boiling inside his tiny chest. His legs were tired, his mood heavy and dark. He didn’t want to crawl. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted Marrya to pick him up, and he wanted it now.
He threw his head back and screamed.
The sound was sharp and demanding, filling the room. His face turned red, eyes blazing with frustration as he slapped the floor with his small hands. Every scream carried the same message: notice me, choose me, lift me. Being on the floor made him feel small and ignored.
Marrya was nearby, busy for just a moment. To A Tong, that moment felt endless. He screamed again, louder, angrier, his body stiff with protest. Tears rushed out, not from sadness alone, but from wounded pride.
Marrya turned quickly, startled by the intensity. She knelt down, calling his name softly. A Tong screamed back, voice cracking, pointing at her with shaking fingers. He didn’t want words. He wanted arms.
Marrya opened her hands and waited. The anger raged for another second, then broke. A Tong’s shoulders slumped. His scream fell into sobs. He crawled forward, still crying.
When Marrya lifted him, the change was instant.
A Tong clung tightly, burying his face against her chest. His sobs slowed. His body relaxed. The floor no longer mattered. The anger melted away, replaced by relief.
Marrya held him firmly, not scolding, not rushing. Just present.
In that moment, A Tong learned something important. Asking loudly isn’t always about anger. Sometimes it’s about needing reassurance. Being picked up wasn’t just comfort. It showed he mattered.
Held safely in Marrya’s arms, A Tong grew quiet. The scream was gone. The message had been heard, and love stayed close
