A Tong sat quietly at first, small hands resting on the table, eyes fixed on the doorway where Mom had disappeared a long time ago. At the beginning, he tried to be brave. He sucked his lips softly, rocking his body, telling himself she would come back soon. The room felt too big, too silent, and the clock ticks sounded louder than his heart.
Minutes passed. Then more minutes. Hunger crept in, followed by fear. A Tong’s calm slowly cracked. His eyebrows pulled together, his breathing changed, and a low cry escaped his throat. He looked around, searching for Mom’s familiar shape, her voice, her arms. Nothing. Only waiting.
Suddenly, the storm arrived. A Tong burst into loud screams, his tiny body shaking with anger and sadness mixed together. He slapped the table, kicked his feet, and threw his head back, crying with all the strength he had. Tears poured down fast, soaking his cheeks. This was not just anger. This was abandonment in his small world.
He slid off the chair onto the floor, rolling and crying, calling out for Mom again and again. His tantrum was wild, uncontrollable. He refused toys, rejected comfort from anyone else. His eyes burned red, his mouth opened wide in desperate cries. To him, Mom leaving for so long felt like forever.
When Mom finally returned, she froze at the sound. A Tong saw her instantly. His cries grew louder for one last moment, as if releasing all the pain he held inside. Then he reached out, arms shaking.
Mom rushed to him, lifting him tight against her chest. His screams turned into broken sobs. He clung to her shirt, afraid to let go. Mom whispered apologies, rocking him gently, letting him cry it out. Slowly, his breathing softened.
A Tong calmed only when he felt her heartbeat again. That tantrum was not bad behavior. It was love panicking. And in Mom’s arms, his world became safe again, exactly where it belonged.
