A Tong’s little body was exhausted. The long day had drained every bit of energy from him, even though his eyes still fought to stay open. He lay in Mom’s arms, breathing unevenly, his hands twitching as if he still wanted to play, to move, to stay awake just a little longer.
Mom noticed the signs right away.
She held his tiny hands softly and began to tap them gently, one… then the other… a slow, familiar rhythm A Tong had known since he was very small. The touch was light, steady, full of reassurance. It wasn’t meant to wake him. It was meant to tell him it was safe to rest.
A Tong blinked slowly.
His shoulders loosened. The tension in his fingers faded as Mom continued tapping both hands with calm patience. Each tap matched her quiet breathing. Each moment pulled him closer to sleep. His head leaned heavier against her chest, his body no longer resisting the tiredness.
He let out a small sigh.
The world around him blurred. Sounds softened. The worries that had kept him alert all day slipped away. His hands stopped moving, resting peacefully in Mom’s palms as if they belonged there.
Mom didn’t stop. She knew this rhythm mattered.
A Tong’s eyes finally closed, lashes resting gently against his cheeks. His breathing deepened, slow and even now. The tired baby who had fought sleep surrendered at last, trusting the gentle taps and the arms that held him.
Mom smiled quietly, continuing the motion just a little longer, making sure he was fully asleep. She brushed her thumb across his hand, careful not to wake him.
In that calm moment, A Tong slept soundly, wrapped in warmth and love. He didn’t need words. He didn’t need promises.
All he needed was the soft tap of Mom’s hands, guiding him into rest, reminding him that when the day becomes too heavy, sleep will come—and Mom will always be there to help him find it.
