The kitchen smelled fresh and sweet as Mom squeezed bright, juicy oranges into a glass.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
But for little A Tong, it was taking forever.
He stood nearby, his tiny eyes locked on the glass like it was the most important thing in the world. His small hands reached forward, his body bouncing with impatience.
He wanted that orange juice.
Now.
Not later.
Not after waiting.
Right now.
His lips pushed forward into a deep pout.
His tiny brows furrowed.
And then—
“AHHHHH!”
A loud yell exploded from him.
A Tong screamed sharply, his little voice full of pure frustration. He stomped his tiny feet and waved his hands dramatically, as if yelling might magically make the juice appear faster.
“Mama! Mama!”
His cries echoed through the kitchen.
Mom kept squeezing, trying not to laugh. “Just a little more, baby… almost done.”
Almost done?
That was not good enough.
A Tong yelled again, even louder this time, tears starting to gather in his eyes. His whole body bounced with hunger and baby anger.
To him, this was an emergency.
A full orange juice crisis.
He reached forward again, trying to grab the cup before it was ready, but Mom gently moved it away.
“No, wait.”
Wait?
Absolutely not.
He let out one final dramatic scream, making sure the whole house understood his suffering.
Finally—
The last orange was squeezed.
Mom poured the fresh juice and handed him the cup.
Instant silence.
A Tong grabbed it quickly and drank with eager little gulps, his angry storm disappearing as fast as it had started.
His body relaxed.
His eyes softened.
Peace returned.
Mom smiled and kissed his head.
Because sometimes, for a tiny monkey with big feelings—
Waiting two extra minutes for orange juice feels like the greatest tragedy in the world.
