Little Mother

Maryam woke up on Saturday morning to the sound of suspicious giggling. When she reached the kitchen, she found her two‑year‑old brother Ehaan sitting in the middle of a rainbow mess—markers everywhere, drawings on the cabinets, and colors all over his skin. “Pretty!” Ehaan announced proudly. Maryam felt frustration bubbling up, but she remembered to count to five like her teacher taught her. After calming herself, she gently took the markers away and cleaned him up as best she could. He “helped” by handing her paper towels, even the used ones, which made the job take longer. Still, Maryam stayed patient. To keep him busy, she brought out her old wooden blocks and decided to teach him colors. Ehaan tried his best—“wed,” “boo,” “lellow”—and Maryam celebrated every success. Even when he threw blocks in frustration, she guided him back with kindness. Later, she made him a snack, but Ehaan refused to eat because he wanted the blue plate, not the green one. His tantrum exploded into kicking and screaming. Maryam almost lost her patience, but she took deep breaths and knelt beside him. “I hear you. You want the blue plate,” she said softly. The blue plate was in the dishwasher, so she turned the green plate into a game: feeding the dinosaur printed on it. Slowly, Ehaan calmed down and ate his apples. By the time Mom finished her work meeting, Maryam was exhausted. Mom suggested a trip to the playground as a reward for being such a good helper. At the park, Maryam finally relaxed and played with her friend—until she heard Ehaan cry. He had climbed the slide stairs alone and slipped. Maryam sprinted to him just in time to see him tumble down. His knee was scraped, and he sobbed into her shoulder. Maryam cleaned the scrape with steady hands, even though she was shaking inside. She hugged him tightly until he calmed down. Ehaan curled up in her lap under a tree, trusting her completely. That night, after his bath, Ehaan insisted on a “Maryam story.” He snuggled beside her as she read *The Very Hungry Caterpillar*. When he correctly named the red apple, Maryam felt proud of him—and of herself. As he drifted off, he whispered, “Love you.” Maryam tucked him into his toddler bed and watched him sleep. She thought about the day—the mess, the tantrum, the scare, the cuddles, the trust. Being a big sister was hard. It meant being patient, teaching, comforting, and sometimes growing up faster than she wanted. But it also meant being someone’s hero. She smiled in the dark, knowing tomorrow would bring new challenges and new moments of love. And she would face them all—because that’s what big sisters do. title of the story is little mother, Maryam is a 7year old girl with fair skin,curly hair small pony wears a specs.Ehaan is a 2year old toddler with chubby cheeks wear shorts and tshirts everytime.