BB, the little baby monkey, had a fiery spirit from the moment he was born. He was known among the troop for being dramatic, expressive, and full of energy. But today… he outdid himself.
It started in the quiet morning under the big mango tree. BB was playing near his mom, climbing low branches and tumbling onto the grass like a little acrobat. But when he wanted a cuddle—his favorite comfort—his mom was distracted, busy grooming another monkey. BB crawled closer, making small noises, gently pulling at her fur.
Still, she didn’t pick him up.
And just like that, BB’s royal tantrum exploded. He flopped onto the dusty floor with a loud cry, rolling over dramatically. His little hands clenched in frustration as he kicked the leaves around him. He let out scream after scream, throwing glances at his mom as if to say, “Look at me!”
The other monkeys paused. A few youngsters stared in confusion. One auntie monkey even came to sniff BB, but he pushed her hand away. He didn’t want comfort from anyone except his mom.
But Mom? She stayed still—watching him out of the corner of her eye but refusing to give in. She knew her son’s moods well. This was not a crisis. It was a performance.
Eventually, BB’s cries slowed, and his voice grew tired. His dramatic energy drained away, and he sat up, pouting silently.
Only then did his mom slowly approach, nudge him with her hand, and offer her chest. Without hesitation, BB leapt into her arms, instantly quiet and content.
Sometimes, being a baby monkey means testing your mom’s love—and sometimes, it means proving you’re still the king of mood, even if no one takes your crown seriously.
