It started the moment the sun came up—Lyka, the baby monkey, was already pouting before her blanket was even off.
She squirmed, kicked, and gave a tiny grumpy growl when Mom tried to wipe her face. “Nooo!” her little squeak said without words, pushing the cloth away and hiding under the blanket again.
“Lyka,” Mom sighed gently, “it’s just morning cleanup.”
But Lyka wasn’t having it.
She jumped off her cushion, rolled dramatically onto the floor, and let out a loud whiny screech. Her face crumpled into a pout, and she crossed her arms like the world had wronged her. It was full tantrum mode.
The other monkeys peeked from behind furniture, watching the show. One of her brothers tried to hand her a toy, but she slapped it away and yelled louder.
Mom stayed calm. She sat nearby with Lyka’s favorite stuffed banana toy and warm milk ready.
“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” she said softly.
Lyka continued her moody performance for a while—rolling, yelling, fake crying—but little by little, her tantrum ran out of steam. Her voice got quieter. Her arms relaxed.
Eventually, she crawled toward Mom and sat beside her, eyes still pouty but now full of regret.
Mom offered the milk without a word.
Lyka grabbed it, took a long drink, and leaned against Mom’s arm with a soft huff.
“No more drama?” Mom asked with a smile.
Lyka gave one last pouty grunt, but then closed her eyes peacefully. Tantrum: over.
