Poor little Milo was feeling completely heartbroken.
He had reached up to his mom with open arms, eyes wide and pleading, hoping for the comfort of being held close. But Mom, busy cleaning herself and tending to the other babies, gently pushed him aside.
That tiny gesture felt like a thunderstorm to Milo.
He froze for a second… then spun around sharply and marched straight to the corner of the room.
Without a word, he sat down facing the wall, arms crossed, his tiny body stiff with frustration. His back was turned to everyone, his little face hidden—but his anger was loud and clear.
He gave an angry snort and let out a few sharp cries, not quite sobs—but sharp, dramatic little sounds of protest.
He didn’t want food.
He didn’t want toys.
He just wanted to be picked up. To be loved.
Emma peeked over and whispered to Dam, “Uh-oh… Milo’s doing his moody wall thing again.”
Dam giggled, but they both knew—Milo’s heart was hurting.
Mom finally noticed the silent protest. She looked over, her heart softening at the sight of her baby’s tiny back hunched over in the corner.
With a sigh, she walked over and gently crouched beside him.
“Milo… I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Milo sniffled, still refusing to look.
But when Mom scooped him up and cradled him in her arms, his stiff little body melted almost instantly. He buried his face in her shoulder and let out one final soft cry.
That was all he needed.
Sometimes, baby monkeys don’t need anything fancy—just love, attention, and the warmth of someone who understands.
