Ansh was now 13 months old, a bundle of boundless energy and curiosity. It was a chilly winter morning, and Aisha found herself in a familiar, albeit exhausting, routine. She was running behind her little boy, trying to make him wear his socks. Despite the cold, Ansh seemed to have an aversion to them and had thrown them off yet again. He giggled mischievously, his small feet padding against the floor as he crawled determinedly toward the coldest spots in the house, delighted by the chill against his skin.

Aisha’s concern grew as she watched him. "Ansh, come here!" she called, her voice carrying a mixture of affection and exasperation. Her son, however, seemed blissfully unaware of the cold's potential harm, more interested in the sensation of the cool tiles beneath his tiny hands and knees.