It was a warm, pleasant afternoon, and the soft, green grass stretched like a carpet outside the house. The sun was still high, but a gentle breeze made the air comfortable. Harry’s mom decided it was the perfect time for him to get some fresh air and play. His sister Sara was already outside, her playful energy buzzing as she dashed around the yard. Harry, however, wasn’t feeling quite as enthusiastic.
His mom picked him up, her hands firm but gentle, and carried him outside. She had been hoping he would perk up with a little sunshine. Harry, though, was in one of his moods—a very stubborn, moody state. His mom smiled, giving him a little kiss on the top of his head before placing him down on the grass near Sara.
“Go play, Harry,” she said with a sweet tone, nudging him gently.
But instead of running off to play, Harry bent his body, curling up tightly like a little ball. His small frame was hunched over, knees tucked in, arms wrapped around himself, his head bent low. From that position, a quiet but unmistakable sound began to rise. First, a low moan, then a louder, drawn-out wail as Harry’s cries filled the air.
His mom turned back to check on him, her face filled with confusion. Usually, Harry would enjoy some time playing outdoors, especially with Sara. But not today. The grass beneath him was soft and warm, but Harry refused to be comforted by it. His small body trembled as he continued to cry, his face scrunched up in a mixture of frustration and sadness.
Sara paused from her running and turned around to see what was going on. She tilted her head, curious about her little brother’s strange behavior. Sara loved to explore and play, but seeing Harry like this made her slow down. She tiptoed over to him, her little legs moving quickly across the grass. She stood in front of him, her eyes wide with concern.
Harry’s moaning didn’t stop. His cries echoed across the yard, loud enough to make the birds in the nearby trees flutter away. His mom sighed, watching the scene unfold. She knew her little boy had a stubborn streak, but seeing him curled up in such a miserable ball broke her heart.
Sara bent down, patting the grass next to Harry, as if encouraging him to join her. But Harry wouldn’t budge. He was determined to stay in his little ball, his tears spilling onto the grass as he cried louder. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to play—he was upset, frustrated. His mom had dropped him onto the grass and gone back inside to grab a few things, and Harry hated being left behind. The moment his mom walked away, his little world felt out of place.
He didn’t understand why she left, even if it was for a short moment. And no matter how much Sara tried to cheer him up, Harry just wanted one thing—his mom.
Sara, seeing that her attempts to comfort Harry weren’t working, trotted back toward the house. Harry’s mom emerged soon after, holding a soft cloth and a snack, expecting to find Harry playing or exploring. But instead, there he was—her little boy curled up on the grass, wailing louder than ever.
“Oh, Harry,” she said softly, walking over and bending down next to him. She reached out and rubbed his back gently. His crying softened just a little, but he was still upset, his tiny body shaking from the moaning.
His mom knew the signs of Harry’s moods. He wasn’t going to stop until he felt safe again, until he was in her arms. So, without another word, she scooped him up, cradling him in her arms, pulling him close. His moans turned to soft whimpers, his body relaxing bit by bit.
Sara, standing nearby, gave a satisfied smile. Even though Harry had refused to play, at least things were back to normal now. Their mom held Harry close, whispering soothing words into his ears, and just like that, his little storm passed.
Harry might have his moody days, but in his mom’s arms, all the frustrations of the world seemed to melt away. And soon enough, he’d be ready to join Sara for a playful run on the grass—just as long as his mom was nearby.
