Ronaldo sat proudly on the floor, his bright red hat tilted just a little too far to the side. The hat made him feel ready, important, and brave. In his mind, it meant only one thing. Outside time. Adventure. Freedom. Fresh air. But Mom hadn’t moved yet.
That’s when the screaming started.
Ronaldo stood up, feet planted, face burning with urgency. He pointed toward the door and screamed loudly, again and again, his voice echoing through the house. The red hat bounced with every movement, shaking like his impatience. He was dressed. He was ready. Why was Mom still inside?
Mom tried to calm him, kneeling down, explaining gently. Ronaldo didn’t listen. Words meant nothing when excitement took over. He screamed louder, tears forming, frustration boiling. To him, waiting felt like denial. The world beyond the door was calling, and being held back felt unbearable.
He stomped toward Mom, then back to the door, then back again, yelling the same demand with different tones. Pick me up. Open it. Now. His tiny body was filled with too much energy for such a small space.
Mom sighed softly, then smiled. She reached out and adjusted his red hat, meeting his eyes. Ronaldo paused mid scream, surprised. She hugged him briefly, grounding him, letting his heartbeat slow just a little.
“Okay,” she said.
The magic word.
Mom lifted him and walked toward the door. Ronaldo squealed, screams turning into excited shouts. When the door finally opened, sunlight rushed in. Ronaldo gasped, eyes wide, joy exploding across his face.
Outside, he calmed instantly. The screaming vanished. The red hat stayed firm on his head as he looked around proudly, satisfied.
Sometimes, little kids scream not from anger, but from excitement they don’t know how to hold. That day, Ronaldo didn’t just wear a red hat. He wore anticipation, impatience, and pure joy—loudly—until the door finally opened.
