Julie, the little baby monkey, was usually sweet and calm in her mother’s arms. But today, something was different. As Mom leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on her tiny forehead, Julie suddenly twisted her body and let out a sharp cry. Her little face scrunched up, and her small fists pounded the air as if she was protesting with all her strength.
Mom tried again, whispering softly and bringing her lips close, but Julie’s temper only grew stronger. She screeched and kicked, her little tail flicking in frustration. It was as if she was saying, “No, Mom! Not now!” Her eyes filled with tears, and her cries echoed through the room.
The outburst surprised everyone. Mom pulled back slightly, her heart aching, wondering what had upset her little one so badly. She stroked Julie’s back, trying to soothe her. Perhaps Julie was overtired, or maybe she just wanted milk instead of cuddles.
But despite her anger, there was something tender about the scene. Julie’s cries came from a place of love and dependence—she needed her mother deeply, even if she didn’t want kisses at that moment. Slowly, Mom rocked her gently, humming softly until the cries turned into whimpers and then quiet sniffles.
Finally, Julie rested her head against Mom’s chest, still pouting but no longer screaming. Her tiny hand clutched Mom’s fur tightly, showing that even in her fiercest temper, what she wanted most was the comfort of being close.
Mom smiled through her worry, kissed the top of Julie’s head once more—so softly this time—and whispered, “I’ll always love you, even when you’re angry.”
