Baby A Tong sat on the floor, eyes locked on Mom’s busy hands.
She was preparing food, moving quickly between bowls, pots, and warm smells. To A Tong, every second felt too long. His tummy growled, his patience vanished, and his emotions exploded.
He screamed. Loud. Sharp. Demanding.
His tiny face turned red as he kicked the floor, waving his arms in frustration. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t alone. He was simply angry that Mom wasn’t looking at him right now. In his small world, hunger and waiting felt unbearable.
Mom glanced down, speaking gently, telling him to wait just a little more. But A Tong didn’t understand “later.” He wanted attention now. He screamed again, louder than before, as if his voice could pull Mom back instantly.
The room filled with noise and emotion. A Tong’s screams echoed, mixed with the clatter of dishes. Tears formed in his eyes, not from pain, but from feeling ignored. His body shook with every cry, his feelings too big for his tiny chest.
Mom finally stopped. She knelt beside him, wiping sweat from her face. She looked straight into his eyes and spoke softly. A Tong paused mid-scream, confused by the sudden calm.
Mom touched his cheek, warm and reassuring. She explained with gentle sounds, not words, that food was coming, that she hadn’t forgotten him. Slowly, A Tong’s screams turned into sniffles. His body relaxed as Mom pulled him close.
She returned to cooking with him watching quietly now, still impatient but calmer. When the food was ready, Mom fed him slowly, lovingly.
A Tong ate greedily, peace returning with every bite. The naughty screams faded, replaced by soft chewing and sleepy eyes. Waiting had been hard, but love arrived right on time.
