Feeding Yan Congze was a problem of the century.
Not only was he picky, but he also liked to bounce around, requiring someone to follow him incessantly with a bowl and spoon. And with his innocently cute face, it felt almost sinful to raise one's voice at him. So one resigned to the task, holding a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, trailing behind him and pleading earnestly.
"Eat a bit, just eat a bit."
Yan Wanqing was so tired that she was sweating profusely, almost unable to stand straight anymore.
"Are you going to eat or not?" she slammed the bowl and spoon down on the table.
The lively dining table instantly fell silent.
Yan Congze climbed down from the stool, his eyes blinking rapidly at Yan Wanqing, soon becoming red around the edges. His mouth trembled, and he looked as if he was about to burst into tears.
Yan Wanqing took a deep breath, "Mommy will count to three." She pointed at the bowl and spoon on the table, "Get up to the table and eat by yourself."
