Tiny baby RoZa sat stiffly on the wooden table, her arms crossed, lips trembling, and eyes darting around—searching, waiting. Her mom was nearby, but busy tending to the others, mixing milk and folding towels, not even glancing her way.
RoZa’s heart sank. She didn’t want milk. She didn’t want a blanket.
She wanted Mom.
She let out a loud, dramatic cry, banging her tiny fists on the table. Her voice echoed through the room, filled with frustration, sadness, and just a bit of baby monkey anger. Her mom turned for a moment but didn’t come over. That hurt even more.
RoZa’s breathing got heavy, and she pushed away the toy beside her. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want anything except to be in her mother’s arms.
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked around, surrounded by food, toys, even her siblings—but feeling completely alone. Her mom, still occupied, seemed unaware of the emotional storm brewing in her daughter’s tiny chest.
RoZa whimpered, then screamed louder this time—her final attempt.
That’s when Mom turned quickly, hearing the pain in that cry. She dropped everything and rushed over, scooping RoZa up in one big swoop. RoZa clung to her like a baby koala, burying her face into Mom’s neck.
“I’m here, baby… Mommy’s here,” she whispered gently.
RoZa finally calmed. Her tears turned to soft hiccups, and her tantrum melted into quiet snuggles.
All she had needed… was love.
