Chamroeun was usually sweet when milk time came, clinging gently to his mom as he drank with all the eagerness of a newborn. But the moment Mom stopped feeding him, everything changed. His face twisted with frustration, and suddenly the room was filled with sharp, nasty little screams that could wake the whole forest.
He kicked his legs wildly, his tiny hands flailing in protest as if to say, “No! I’m not done yet! Give it back!” His eyes glared up at his mom, wet with tears, his voice rising higher with every second. The peaceful moment of feeding had turned into a dramatic tantrum, his little body trembling with stubborn anger.
Mom stayed calm, even though his cries were loud enough to make anyone else give in. She stroked his back gently, trying to soothe him, but Chamroeun wasn’t ready to calm down. He squirmed and screamed, his small fists thumping against her chest in a pitiful attempt to demand more milk.
Finally, after a while, his cries softened into heavy sobs. Exhausted from his tantrum, he buried his damp face into his mother’s fur, still hiccupping from all the noise he had made. Mom kissed the top of his head, holding him close, letting him know she loved him—even when he was “nasty” with anger.
For Chamroeun, it wasn’t just about milk. It was about love, comfort, and wanting to hold on to the moment forever. Though his screams were sharp and stubborn, deep inside they were only proof of how much he longed for his mother’s closeness.
In the end, Mom knew the truth: even the loudest cries can’t hide the smallest heart’s greatest need—to feel safe and loved.
