Little Loco, the tiniest baby in the troop, had a heart as big as his eyes. His legs were too short for running far, and his voice was too soft to compete with louder siblings. But today, his sadness didn’t need words.
Mom was busy.
She was washing fruit, grooming another monkey, and watching over the others. Her hands never stopped moving. But Loco didn’t move at all.
He lay down gently on her leg, curling into a small ball, his tail tucked under him. His tiny hands clung to her fur, and his eyes blinked slowly, heavy with disappointment.
He wasn’t hurt.
He wasn’t sick.
He was just… lonely.
Every few seconds, he looked up, hoping for a glance. A pat. A whisper. But Mom didn’t see.
So he pressed his cheek against her shin and gave the softest sigh a baby monkey could give.
It was a silent cry for love.
Other monkeys around them laughed, jumped, and climbed. The sun peeked through the leaves. But Loco stayed still. His whole world, in that moment, was wrapped around waiting.
Then, just when he seemed ready to fall asleep with his sadness, Mom finally noticed.
She looked down, surprised to see her smallest one lying so still. She dropped what she was doing and scooped him up with both arms.
“Oh, my baby,” she whispered in her own way, pulling him close.
Loco didn’t scream or cheer. He just melted into her arms.
And finally, after waiting so patiently, he got the love he was aching for
