Mom only wanted a calm morning, but Chamroeun woke up with a storm in his tiny chest.
The moment she placed him gently on the floor to prepare his breakfast, his face tightened, lips shaking before a loud frustrated scream burst out of him. He didn’t want space. He didn’t want distance. He wanted her—right there, holding him, comforting him, never letting go.
Mom turned back toward him, sadness already building in her eyes.
Chamroeun’s cries weren’t soft or confused—they were sharp, stubborn, full of anger he couldn’t explain. His tiny hands slapped the floor, his feet kicking wildly as he screamed her name over and over in his little monkey language. The echoes filled the room, bouncing like broken pieces of emotion that stabbed straight into Mom’s heart.
She knelt down, reaching for him, but Chamroeun pushed her hand away in frustration.
That hurt her even more.
Why was her baby so upset?
Why was he rejecting her touch today?
She whispered his name softly, but Chamroeun only screamed louder, tears rolling down his cheeks like tiny raindrops during a storm.
Mom sat beside him, giving him space but showing she wasn’t leaving.
Chamroeun didn’t understand her sadness—he only felt the fire of emotion inside him, burning hotter with every breath. He stomped his feet, pulled at his own blanket, and let out cry after cry that shook through his small body.
Minutes passed.
Slowly his anger weakened, turning into softer, tired sobs.
His little arms finally reached toward Mom, the same hands that pushed her away before.
She scooped him up instantly.
Chamroeun buried his face into her chest, shaking with leftover emotion.
And Mom held him tighter, tears in her own eyes—sad, relieved, and full of love.
