The house was unusually quiet, but not for long. Baby monkey Harry, sitting in the middle of the room, decided it was time to demand some attention. His tiny arms crossed over his chest, and his pout deepened as he looked around. No one was paying attention to him, and that was unacceptable.
Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the air. Harry’s little voice grew louder with each passing second, echoing through the house. He sat firmly on the floor, his tail swishing in frustration. His tiny fists banged against the ground as he let out one long, exaggerated wail after another.
Harry’s mom peeked from the next room, raising an eyebrow. “Harry, what’s the matter now?” she asked gently. But her calm voice only seemed to fuel his tantrum. He turned his face away, as if to say, I won’t stop until you come here.
His cries became even sharper, his tiny body trembling with anger. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared at the doorway, waiting for someone to swoop in and comfort him. Harry wasn’t just upset—he was determined to be noticed.
Finally, his mom walked over and knelt beside him. “Oh, Harry, you’re such a little troublemaker,” she said with a soft laugh. She reached out, scooping him into her arms.
As soon as he was picked up, Harry’s cries softened into small sniffles. He nuzzled against his mom, his tail wrapping tightly around her wrist. The anger and frustration melted away, replaced by the warmth of being held.
Harry’s tantrums were dramatic, but his need for love and attention always won in the end. For him, there was nothing better than being the center of his mom’s world.
