It was a warm afternoon, and Harry’s mom was busy tending to her garden, carefully watering her plants and rearranging the flower pots. Harry, the ever-clingy little monkey, sat nearby, watching her every move. His eyes followed her intently, and every now and then, he would inch closer, hoping for a hug.
“Harry, be patient. Mommy’s working,” she said, gently moving him aside as he tried to climb up her leg.
But patience wasn’t in Harry’s vocabulary today. He stomped his little feet and let out a loud whimper, his pouty lips quivering as tears began to form. His mom continued her work, unaware of the storm brewing behind her.
Feeling ignored, Harry decided to take matters into his own hands. He spotted a small flower pot nearby, one that Mom had just placed neatly. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he grabbed it and scurried off to a corner, clutching it tightly like a prized possession.
When Mom turned around and saw the empty spot where her pot had been, she frowned. “Harry, where’s the flower pot?” she asked, walking toward him.
Harry responded with a dramatic cry, shaking his head and hugging the pot as if it were his only source of comfort. Tears streamed down his face as he shouted his frustration.
“Harry, give that back,” Mom said firmly, crouching to his level.
“No! Hug me!” Harry cried, his tiny body trembling with emotion.
Mom sighed and gently pried the pot from his arms. She placed it back in its spot and scooped Harry up. “You little troublemaker,” she said with a chuckle, hugging him tightly.
Harry’s cries turned into soft sniffles as he melted into her embrace, finally content in her arms.
