Selena sat on the table, tiny fists clenched, tears rolling fast down her cheeks. The sweet fruits were placed gently in front of her, colorful, soft, and fragrant, but she refused even to look. Her face twisted with frustration, and a loud cry burst from her chest, sharp enough to stop everyone nearby.
Mom spoke softly, trying to encourage her, lifting a small piece of fruit toward Selena’s mouth. Instead of opening up, Selena turned her head away, screaming louder, feet kicking against the table. It was not about hunger. It was about control, about wanting comfort more than food.
Her cries echoed through the room, uneven and desperate. She slapped the table once, then froze, surprised by her own anger. Tears kept coming anyway. Mom sighed gently, not angry, just tired, knowing this storm had to pass.
Selena leaned forward, forehead touching the table, shoulders shaking. The fruits stayed untouched, innocent witnesses to her tantrum. Mom rubbed her back slowly, steady and calm, waiting for the waves to soften.
Minutes felt long. The crying slowly changed, from sharp screams to broken sobs. Selena peeked at mom with swollen eyes, still refusing to eat, but searching for reassurance. Mom smiled softly, wiping tears away, whispering that it was okay to feel upset.
At last, Selena crawled closer, resting against mom’s hand. The tantrum faded, leaving behind exhaustion and quiet sniffles. The fruit remained on the table, but peace returned to the room.
Sometimes little hearts don’t need sweetness on a plate. They need patience, understanding, and the safety of knowing they are loved, even when they refuse everything else. Mom stayed beside her, breathing together, letting silence teach calm, trusting tomorrow would bring smiles, open mouths, and fruit shared without tears, after storms pass and little spirits feel safe again.
