It was a quiet afternoon, the sun peeking through the trees outside the house. Baby monkey Milo, usually full of playful energy, was having one of his bad moods again. He sat on the wooden bed, his little face scrunched up in anger, tiny hands clenching the blanket beneath him. His mom had set him there, hoping he would entertain himself with his toys while she went about her chores. But Milo didn’t want to be left alone. He wanted to go with her. As soon as his mom walked out of the room, Milo let out a loud, frustrated cry. His face turned red, and his body tensed up as if every muscle inside him was angry. He kicked his legs and pounded his tiny fists against the bed, throwing a tantrum like no other. His cries echoed through the house, a high-pitched sound that showed just how upset he was. He wanted his mom, and he wanted her now.
His mom rushed back into the room, worried that something was wrong. She knelt beside the bed, trying to soothe her upset little boy. “Milo, what’s wrong? Mommy’s here,” she said softly, reaching out to stroke his fur. But Milo wasn’t having it. He twisted his body away from her touch, his cries getting louder, angrier. His eyes, wet with tears, glared at his mom as if it was all her fault.
Mom picked up a bottle of milk, hoping that a comforting drink might calm him down. She gently held it out to him, coaxing him to take a sip. But Milo turned his head away, furiously pushing the bottle aside. He didn’t want milk. He didn’t want comfort. He only wanted to be with his mom, and the idea of being left alone to play felt like the biggest betrayal.
“Milo, drink some milk, sweetheart,” she tried again, her voice patient but with a hint of desperation. Still, Milo wouldn’t have it. His small body shook with sobs, his face blotchy from the crying. He was in the middle of a full-blown seizure of frustration. His tiny heart couldn’t understand why his mom wasn’t taking him with her, and nothing else would make him happy.
His mom sat beside him on the bed, unsure of what to do. She had things to take care of, but Milo’s upset face tugged at her heart. She reached out and tried to hug him, but he pushed her hands away again, his little monkey cries piercing the air.
Milo’s tantrum continued. He didn’t want to play, didn’t want to drink, and he definitely didn’t want to be alone. His tiny body thrashed on the bed, as if showing his displeasure with the world. The wooden bed creaked under his movements, the blanket tossed about as he kicked and screamed.
After what felt like an eternity, his cries slowly began to soften. His energy was wearing out, and though he was still angry, he was getting tired. His mom stayed close, watching him carefully, knowing that this was just one of those moments where Milo’s little emotions were too big for him to handle. She sat by his side, not pushing him to take the milk again, just being there.
Eventually, Milo’s sobs turned into quiet sniffles. His tiny body, now exhausted from the tantrum, lay still on the bed. His mom reached out one more time, this time offering a gentle touch to his back. He didn’t push her away this time. Slowly, she stroked his fur, her calm presence helping to ease the last bits of his anger.
“Milo, it’s okay, Mommy’s here,” she whispered. This time, Milo didn’t resist. He didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he just wanted to be close to her. He curled up on the bed, still upset but too tired to keep fighting.
His mom stayed with him, her soft hand moving gently up and down his back until his little eyes started to close. The tantrum was over, for now. But Milo’s mood would surely come again another day. Until then, his mom just held him close, giving him the comfort he had fought so hard against but truly needed all along.
