Baby Tav Tav let out an ear-piercing scream the moment Mom tried to place him on the floor. What seemed like a simple action felt like a huge betrayal to his tiny heart. His little arms flailed wildly, his face scrunched in anger and fear, and his cries echoed loudly as if to say, “No—don’t put me down!”
Tav Tav had been enjoying the warmth of Mom’s embrace. Her heartbeat, her smell, and her gentle movements made him feel safe. The second that closeness was threatened, panic took over. His scream wasn’t just noise—it was a desperate protest. He kicked his legs, arched his back, and screamed even louder, refusing to let the floor touch him.
Mom paused, surprised by how strong his reaction was. She stayed calm, knowing Tav Tav wasn’t being naughty—he was overwhelmed. She spoke softly, trying to reassure him, but Tav Tav only screamed harder, tears filling his eyes. Being put down felt like being left alone, and that fear was too big for such a small body.
Seeing his distress, Mom lifted him back up. Almost instantly, the screams softened into broken sobs. Tav Tav clung tightly to her clothes, his breathing uneven but slowly calming. His head rested against her chest, and his tiny hands gripped firmly, afraid she might try again.
Mom gently rocked him, letting him feel secure. The anger faded, replaced by exhaustion. Tav Tav sighed, still refusing to go down, but no longer screaming.
This moment showed how deeply babies depend on closeness. Tav Tav didn’t reject the floor—he rejected separation. All he wanted was to feel safe.
In Mom’s arms, the world felt right again, and the loud screams finally fell into quiet, comforted silence.
