Morning light slipped gently into the room, but for baby Ronaldo, it wasn’t gentle enough to calm the storm building inside him. The second he opened his eyes and realized Mom wasn’t beside him with warm water ready, his tiny face twisted into pure impatience. Ronaldo loved his morning bath more than anything—more than milk, more than cuddles, even more than being wrapped in his soft towel.
But today, Mom was running a little late.
Ronaldo sat up on the bed, puffing his cheeks and kicking his little legs. First came the small whimpers… then louder grunts… and then the full explosion. His mouth opened wide, releasing a dramatic wail that traveled through the whole house. He wasn’t just crying—he was calling for Mom, demanding that she hurry and bring his favorite warm morning comfort.
He crawled to the edge of the bed and looked toward the door, sniffling, pausing, then screaming again as if his voice could magically pull her closer. His little hands slapped the blanket in frustration, and salty tears rolled down his cheeks as he rocked forward and backward, unable to wait a second longer.
Finally, Mom rushed in with the small basin of warm water. The moment Ronaldo saw it, his cry changed—still loud, but full of relief mixed with urgency. He reached out both hands toward her, his little body shaking with excitement and impatience.
Mom laughed softly and lifted him up, his tantrum instantly melting into tiny sniffles and trembling breaths. She placed him gently into the warm water, and Ronaldo’s whole body relaxed. His eyes half-closed, his lips curled into the faintest smile, and all the morning chaos disappeared.
Now peaceful, his angry cries faded into soft coos.
All Ronaldo ever wanted was his warm morning bath… and his mom.
