Baby monkey Shala sat on the table, her tiny legs dangling, her face already twisted with frustration. Nothing terrible was happening, yet everything felt wrong to her. The room was quiet, too quiet, and that alone was enough to trigger another tantrum. She cried loudly, a sharp, demanding sound that showed just how big her feelings were inside such a small body.
She slapped the table with her little hands, then froze, listening. No one rushed over immediately. That made it worse. Shala’s cries grew stronger, her brows pulling together, mouth wide open as she screamed again. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t hungry. She was simply overwhelmed by sitting still and being alone.
Her body rocked back and forth as she cried, tail curling tightly around her leg. She looked toward the doorway again and again, hoping someone would come and lift her up. Every second felt unfair. Why should she sit here? Why couldn’t someone hold her? These thoughts showed in her eyes even before words could exist.
When daddy glanced over, Shala screamed louder, as if scolding him for not acting fast enough. She leaned forward dramatically, then flopped back in protest. Tears rolled freely now, not from pain, but from pure emotion spilling out without control.
Daddy finally approached, placing a gentle hand near her. Shala turned her head away, still crying, pretending she didn’t care. But her body leaned closer despite herself. The anger slowly cracked. Her cries softened into sobs, then into shaky breaths.
Daddy picked her up, and instantly her body relaxed. The tantrum faded as quickly as it came. Shala buried her face against him, exhausted by her own emotions. Sitting alone had felt unbearable, but being held made the world feel right again.
Shala wasn’t naughty. She was learning how to feel. And sometimes, all a tiny heart needs is reassurance, warmth, and arms that say, you are not alone.
