Baby A Tong was known for his spoiled softness — always wanting mom’s arms, never liking to be left alone even for a moment. That day, mom gently placed him on the table so she could prepare milk and clean his sleeping mat. To adults it was just a short wait, but for A Tong, moments without mom felt like forever.
At first, he sat still, blinking around with curious eyes. But the room felt big, quiet, and cold without her touch. His tiny hands reached forward as if trying to grab her back. When she took a step away, his lip trembled, breath shaking. Then came the explosion — a loud desperate cry that could shake a whole village.
He screamed with the full power of his little lungs. His tail thumped, feet kicked, he rolled his body like a storm of emotions. The table became a battlefield of tantrum. Every second without mom felt like a heartbreak. He kept screaming “Pick me up! Don’t leave me!” in his baby monkey language.
Mom turned around, but she knew she had to finish preparing his milk. She smiled softly, whispering from afar, telling him to be patient. But patience was not something A Tong understood yet. His cries only grew louder. His tiny heart was full of longing — he wanted warmth, comfort, arms to hold him close.
After finishing the milk, mom finally returned. The moment she lifted him, his world changed. Tears still glistened on his cheeks, but his body relaxed instantly in her arms. Those angry cries melted into soft sniffles. He buried his head into her chest, clinging tightly as if afraid she’d disappear again.
Mom hugged him, rocking gently, whispering love. A Tong drank his milk peacefully — tantrum forgotten, comfort restored. His little heart needed just one thing: his mom.
