The newborn baby monkey had a head that looked too big for his fragile body, round and soft like it carried all his worries at once. His eyes were wide and perfectly round, shining with tears that refused to stop. Lying on a thin cloth, he began to fuss, then whine, and finally burst into a full tantrum that shook his tiny chest.
His arms flailed in the air, fingers curling and uncurling as if he were trying to grab the world itself. His little mouth opened wide, letting out sharp cries filled with fear, hunger, and confusion. Everything felt wrong. The air was cold. The sounds were strange. And worst of all, there was no mother’s warmth to calm him.
Each cry grew louder. His big head tilted back, round eyes squeezing shut, then opening again desperately, searching for comfort that didn’t come fast enough. His tantrum wasn’t naughty. It was survival. A newborn heart only knows how to speak through tears.
Someone nearby hurried closer, startled by the intensity of his cries. Gentle hands lifted him carefully, supporting his heavy little head. The baby screamed once more, then paused, shocked by the sudden warmth. His cries softened into shaky sobs.
The hands rocked him slowly. A soft voice hummed. His breathing began to steady. The tantrum faded, replaced by quiet whimpers and blinking eyes still wet with tears. His round eyes stared up, uncertain but calmer now.
Wrapped safely, his body relaxed. His arms stopped shaking. His big head rested against a steady chest, and for the first time since waking, he felt something close to peace.
Soon, his cries disappeared completely. Exhaustion pulled his eyelids down. The tantrum that once filled the room became only a memory.
In that moment, the newborn baby monkey learned something important. Even the loudest cries can be answered. Even the smallest life, with a big head and round eyes, deserves comfort, patience, and love when the world feels too big to face alone.
