Little Minea was tiny, hungry, and furious with the whole world.
Her stomach burned with emptiness, and her patience disappeared completely.
She stood on shaky legs, screaming at the doorway, calling for Mom.
Each cry was sharp, loud, and filled with desperate need.
Minea slapped the floor, kicked the air, and twisted her small body.
To anyone watching, she looked naughty and dramatic, but the truth was simple.
She was starving.
Her mouth opened wide, her voice cracking between sobs and screams.
Mom was busy nearby, preparing food, moving as fast as she could.
But to Minea, every second felt like betrayal.
She wanted treats now, not later, not explanations.
Her eyes burned with anger and tears, sparkling with frustration.
She screamed louder, calling Mom again and again.
Her tiny hands reached out, demanding comfort, sweetness, relief.
Hunger turned her fear into rage, her need into noise.
Finally, Mom rushed over, kneeling down to Minea’s level.
She didn’t scold.
She didn’t shout.
She opened her arms instead.
Minea hesitated, still screaming, still shaking with emotion.
Then her strength collapsed.
She fell into Mom’s arms, crying hard against her chest.
Mom held her tightly, whispering soft promises and apologies.
Mom brought the treats, feeding Minea slowly and gently.
Each bite softened the anger, quieted the screams.
Minea’s eyes grew heavy, her breathing calmer, her body relaxed.
Soon, the nasty screams were only tiny sniffles.
Hunger faded, love remained.
In Mom’s arms, Minea learned something important.
Even when anger feels loud and scary, love always listens.
And food tastes better when given with patience, warmth, and care.
Minea slept peacefully.
