The sun cast long golden rays across the backyard, warming the dry bamboo laid out to dry for cooking. But amidst the stillness, a tiny, trembling cry broke the calm.
It was baby Johnson.
Placed gently on the rough bamboo by his mom while she quickly ran inside to get his milk, Johnson didn’t understand her intention. To him, she had simply… left.
His wide eyes darted around. The yard looked too big. Too quiet. The bamboo beneath him felt cold and uncomfortable.
And worst of all—Mom wasn’t there.
At first, his bottom lip trembled.
Then came the first soft whimper.
And then the full tantrum exploded.
“EEEEEEEHH!! EHHHH!!!”
Johnson screamed at the top of his lungs, tiny fists flailing, tears streaming down his face. His body tensed, legs kicking in frustration. He turned red with anger and fear, crying louder and louder.
He was furious. He was heartbroken. He felt completely alone.
The bamboo cracked slightly under his tiny movements, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be in Mom’s arms again.
Inside, Mom heard his cries and dropped everything. She rushed back out, heart pounding, and found him in full meltdown mode—face wet, hands trembling, screaming so hard his voice cracked.
“Oh no, baby! I’m so sorry!”
She scooped him up instantly. The moment he touched her chest, he went limp—still crying, but softer now, exhausted from the emotional outburst.
She kissed his forehead, gently rubbing his back. “I’m here, Johnson. Mommy’s here.”
And though he couldn’t speak, his clinging arms and soft sobs said everything:
Please don’t leave me again.
