Baby monkey Lito sat sulking, his tiny face twisted in pure stubborn anger. In front of him was a small piece of cake, soft and sweet, the same kind Lika happily ate just moments before. But Lito wanted exactly what Lika had, the way Lika had it, or nothing at all. And so, the tantrum began.
He pushed the cake away with a sharp slap of his hand, then screamed loudly as if deeply offended. His cries echoed with frustration, not hunger alone but jealousy and pride. Lito kicked his feet, arched his back, and threw his head back dramatically, making sure everyone knew how unhappy he was. Tears filled his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he wailed in protest.
Mom tried gently offering the cake again, breaking it into smaller pieces, smiling softly. Lito glanced at it, sniffed, then cried even harder. He pointed angrily toward Lika, as if saying, “I want hers, not mine!” His little body shook with emotion, a mix of temper, confusion, and spoiled determination.
Lito’s cries grew louder, turning into full sobs. He wasn’t being mistreated—he was being adored too much. Used to getting what he wanted instantly, waiting or accepting something different felt unbearable. The cake sat untouched while Lito expressed his big feelings in the only way he knew how.
After a long while, his screams softened into tired whimpers. His energy faded. He leaned forward, resting his head for a second, still sniffing angrily. Mom stayed close, patient and calm, not forcing, not scolding. Just waiting.
Finally, Lito peeked at the cake again. He touched it cautiously, then pulled his hand back, still unsure. The tantrum wasn’t fully over, but the storm was passing.
Sometimes, spoiled doesn’t mean bad—it means loved a little too much. And little Lito, with his dramatic cries and stubborn heart, was learning his first lesson about sharing, patience, and accepting things as they are… one tiny bite at a time.
