Before Wang Yun could finish, Niu Zijun tugged at her sleeve.
Wang Yun quickly looked down and immediately understood what her son wanted.
Wang Yun asked at once, "Ah Hong, do you still have any of these cakes? My precious child wants more."
Tan Zhenghong glanced at the plate, which had held eight pieces of pastry just moments ago, but now it was empty, even the crumbs licked clean.
Is it appropriate for a one-year-old child to eat so much?
"How about we give the child something else to eat?" Tan Zhenghong suggested.
Wang Yun shook her head, "If he likes it, let him eat. He was premature, and it's rare for him to find something he likes. Eating a bit more won't hurt, otherwise he'll cry, and no one can calm him down."
Her son also had a problem; crying too hard could easily make him faint.
Therefore, what she valued most in bringing up her child was ensuring he didn't cry.