It was a peaceful afternoon in the countryside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a gentle breeze flowed through the open windows of Uncle Phong’s cozy little kitchen. Inside, something wonderful was happening—Uncle Phong was preparing his famous corn mushroom soup, a dish he had perfected over the years.
The ingredients were fresh from the garden: sweet golden corn, earthy mushrooms, creamy coconut milk, and a handful of fragrant herbs. He chopped, stirred, and simmered the soup with care, humming an old folk song as he worked. The aroma filled the house, drifting outside to the garden where little Bibi, his four-year-old niece, was playing with her doll.
“Bibi!” Uncle Phong called out gently. “Lunch is ready! Come and try my special corn mushroom soup!”
Bibi ran to the kitchen, her cheeks rosy and her pigtails bouncing. She climbed into her little chair at the table and looked at the steaming bowl in front of her. It was beautiful—creamy and golden, with soft pieces of mushroom and corn floating on top, and a sprinkle of green onions and black pepper.
But then something unexpected happened.
Bibi frowned. She looked at the soup. Then at Uncle Phong. Then back at the soup.
“I don’t want it,” she said quietly, pushing the bowl away.
Uncle Phong blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, you don’t want it? This is your favorite soup! I made it just for you.”
“I don’t like mushrooms today,” Bibi replied, crossing her arms.
“But you loved mushrooms yesterday,” Uncle Phong said gently. “You even asked for more.”
“I changed my mind,” Bibi said firmly.
Uncle Phong didn’t get upset. He simply smiled and sat down next to her. “That’s okay, little one. Sometimes our taste changes. But would you like to at least try one spoonful? Just one? If you still don’t like it, I won’t ask again.”
Bibi looked at the spoon Uncle Phong offered. She hesitated. She thought. And then she shook her head.
“No, thank you.”
True to his word, Uncle Phong didn’t insist. Instead, he placed the soup in front of himself and took a big, satisfied spoonful. “Mmm! This is the best I’ve made all week!” he said, closing his eyes with a smile.
Bibi watched him quietly. She saw how happy he looked, how much love he had put into the soup. After a moment, she slid off her chair and returned to her dolls, leaving Uncle Phong to enjoy the meal.
Later that evening, as the sun began to set and Uncle Phong washed the dishes, he heard a small voice behind him.
“Uncle Phong?”
“Yes, Bibi?”
A Daily Stretching Routine
“Can I have just a little bit of the soup? I think I might like it after all.”
Uncle Phong smiled, wiped his hands, and gently warmed up a small bowl.
Sometimes, the heart takes a little longer than the tongue to be ready.
