Pavpav sat patiently on the soft mat, his small hands resting on his round belly. His eyes followed every movement his mom made near the table. The sweet smell of banana filled the air, mixed with warm milk, and his little mouth watered. He was hungry, very hungry, but he did not cry.
Unlike other days filled with tantrums and loud calls, Pavpav chose obedience. He waited. His legs were tucked neatly beneath him, back slightly hunched, tail lying still. Every time mom turned the spoon, his eyes widened just a little, hope sparkling inside them.
The blender hummed softly. Pavpav flinched at the sound but stayed in place. He trusted her. He believed food would come if he waited long enough. His stomach growled, and he swallowed hard, lips pressing together as if reminding himself to be strong.
Mom glanced back and saw him. Her heart softened immediately. Such innocence, such patience in such a tiny body. Pavpav did not bang the table or scream. He only leaned forward a bit, then stopped, respecting the invisible rule to wait.
A drop of drool slid down his chin when the banana mash was poured into the bottle. He noticed and quickly wiped it with the back of his hand, embarrassed but hopeful. His breathing became faster, excitement quietly building.
Finally, mom walked toward him with the bottle. Pavpav’s hands lifted slowly, not grabbing, just asking. When the nipple touched his lips, his eyes closed in relief. Warmth spread through his body with the first sip.
As he drank, his tense shoulders relaxed. The waiting was over. His obedience was rewarded. In that simple moment, Pavpav felt safe, loved, and proud.
Sometimes the purest love is shown not by crying, but by trusting. And Pavpav, innocent and gentle, trusted with his whole tiny heart.
