Anakin plucked his daughter from the fretting droid's arms with tender ease. She was cradled into his leacher-covered cybernetic arm, while he stroked her face and hair with the flesh hand, whispering gentle nonsense to her. With his ability in the Force, he also reached to her mind, assuring her that he was here.
She started calming almost immediately, and within three minutes, Shmi was gurgling happily against his chest. One of the cans of formula he had rushed out to purchase floated into reach.
"Calm down, Threepio," he said. "Take the formula. She's just hungry."