Little A Tong was not in the mood for anything this morning. His tiny face wore a frown, and his eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. He had woken up feeling grumpy and extra sensitive. Mom had tried to pick him up gently, but he turned his face away, crossing his arms with a dramatic huff. He was clearly upset—though nobody could figure out why.
Mom patiently followed him around, trying to offer him cuddles and care, but A Tong wasn’t having it. He stomped his little feet and sat in the corner, sulking like the world had turned against him.
But then… his tummy growled.
Loudly.
That was the one thing A Tong could never ignore. The smell of warm, fresh milk floated through the air as Mom prepared his bottle. His ears twitched, and his nose wiggled, even though he tried to stay mad.
He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye.
Mom knelt beside him, holding the bottle out with a soft smile. At first, A Tong pretended not to care. But then—like a little storm melting into sunshine—he grabbed the bottle and began drinking it with big, eager gulps.
Mom gently stroked his back as he drank, whispering, “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
The anger in A Tong’s tiny heart faded as the milk filled his belly. His grumpy expression softened, and a quiet little sigh escaped him. He clung to the bottle and looked up at Mom—not quite ready to smile, but no longer upset.
After the last drop, he rested against her chest, letting out a tiny burp and closing his eyes. All was forgiven.
Mom kissed his forehead.
