It was really funny the moment little Libom lay flat on the floor, his tiny body stiff with anger. His face turned serious, lips pushed forward, eyes glaring toward his mom as if she had committed the greatest mistake in the world. No tears yet—just pure attitude. He stayed completely still, pretending to be ignored, but clearly waiting for a reaction.
Libom slapped the floor lightly with one hand, then stopped to listen. Nothing. His mom didn’t rush over. That made him even angrier. He rolled slightly onto his side, shooting another dramatic look in her direction. His brows furrowed deeply, and a small grumpy sound escaped his mouth, halfway between a protest and a complaint.
Mom watched quietly, trying not to laugh. Libom noticed. He pushed his cheek harder against the floor, exaggerating his misery. His legs kicked once, then froze again. He wanted attention, comfort, maybe an apology—but most of all, he wanted to win. The silence felt unfair to him.
After a long pause, Libom lifted his head just a little to check if Mom was looking. She was. That gave him hope. He flopped back down dramatically, as if exhausted from suffering. This time, a tiny whine came out, softer than before, testing if it would work better than anger.
Finally, Mom stepped closer and called his name gently. Instantly, Libom rolled over and reached up, anger forgotten in one second. The tantrum was over. He clung to her leg, face calm again, as if nothing had happened. Mom laughed softly, lifting him up. The whole scene had been more funny than serious. Libom wasn’t truly angry—just expressive. That day proved something adorable. Even the smallest monkeys know how to act dramatic, and sometimes, their floor tantrums are just another cute way of saying, “Mom, pay attention to me.
