Mason’s scream burst through the room suddenly, loud and sharp, filled with frustration. His tiny face turned red as he threw a big tantrum, kicking his legs and waving his arms wildly. Tears streamed down his cheeks while his mouth stayed wide open, crying with all the strength he had. The sound was impossible to ignore.
He wasn’t hurt.
He wasn’t sleepy.
Mason was hungry—and he wanted milk now.
Mom tried to calm him, speaking softly, asking him to wait just a little. But waiting was not an option for Mason today. Each second felt like forever to his small body. His crying grew louder, more dramatic, echoing with desperation. He arched his back, pushing away, then reached out again, torn between anger and need.
“Mmm… aaah!” Mason screamed, his voice cracking.
Mom checked everything carefully. She touched his belly, looked into his eyes, trying to soothe him with gentle pats. But Mason shook his head and screamed even harder. His tantrum wasn’t fake. Hunger made him emotional, overwhelmed, and unable to understand patience.
The moment mom lifted the milk bottle, Mason noticed instantly. His crying paused for just a second. His eyes locked onto it. Then the screaming returned, even louder, as if saying, Hurry! Hurry!
Mom quickly prepared the milk, testing the temperature again and again. Mason cried through the whole process, his body shaking with urgency. Finally, mom lifted him close and placed the bottle to his mouth.
Instant silence.
Mason latched on eagerly, drinking fast. His shoulders relaxed. His legs stopped kicking. The anger melted away with every swallow. Milk dribbled slightly down his chin as relief washed over him. His eyes slowly softened, blinking heavy.
Within minutes, the tantrum was forgotten. Mason drank calmly now, holding the bottle with both hands. When he was full, he released it gently and rested his head against mom’s chest.
The screaming child was gone.
In his place was a peaceful baby, breathing softly.
Mom sighed with relief and kissed his head. Mason didn’t throw a tantrum because he was bad. He screamed because his tiny body needed help—and he trusted mom would answer.
And she did.
