The kitchen buzzed softly as fresh oranges were being squeezed, their sweet scent filling the air.
But A Tong wasn’t enjoying the moment.
He was waiting.
And he didn’t like it.
Standing nearby, his tiny eyes locked onto the glass, watching every movement his mom made. The slow squeeze… the drip of juice… it all felt too long.
Way too long.
His face tightened.
Then—he yelled.
“Ahhh! Ahhh!”
His loud cry broke through the calm, sharp and demanding. His small hands waved in the air, his body bouncing with impatience. He wanted the juice now—not later, not after waiting.
“Ma! Ma!” he called, his voice rising higher.
His mom tried to stay calm. “Just a moment, A Tong,” she said gently, continuing to squeeze the oranges.
But that only made it worse.
A Tong stomped his tiny feet, his face turning red as tears formed. His cries grew louder, echoing through the room. He reached forward again and again, as if he could grab the juice before it was ready.
He couldn’t understand why it took so long.
He only knew he wanted it.
Now.
Finally, the last orange was squeezed.
His mom poured the fresh juice into a cup and turned toward him. “Okay, here it is,” she said softly.
A Tong’s cries didn’t stop immediately, but the moment he held the cup, everything began to change. He brought it close, taking eager sips, his loud screams fading into quiet gulps.
His body slowly relaxed.
The anger melted away.
Because for a little one, waiting feels endless—but sometimes, all it takes is that one moment when what they want finally arrives.
