Little Monkey Lito was full of restless energy this morning. His tiny hands and knees pressed against the floor as he tried crawling as fast as he could. His round eyes searched desperately for mom, but she didn’t pick him up right away. That was enough to spark his fiery little temper.
Lito let out sharp cries, his face tightening with frustration. Each crawl was filled with determination, his small body shaking as he pushed himself closer to mom. His cries grew louder, almost like shouting, demanding that she notice him. He didn’t understand why mom hadn’t lifted him into her arms yet — for him, waiting even a second felt like being forgotten.
When he finally reached mom’s side, Lito tugged at her leg, his little fingers gripping with strength far beyond his tiny size. His cries echoed through the room, filled with anger and hurt. He wanted to be hugged, to feel safe against her chest, not left crawling alone on the cold floor.
Mom bent down slowly, trying to calm him with soothing words, but Lito wasn’t ready to listen. He pounded the floor with his fists, his small body trembling from the intensity of his tantrum. His heart wanted only one thing — mom’s arms.
At last, when she lifted him up, Lito buried his face into her shoulder, his angry cries turning into quiet sobs. His little body softened, all the frustration melting into relief. In that moment, he wasn’t angry anymore — he was simply a baby who had longed for love and closeness.
This scene showed just how much Lito’s world depended on mom’s touch. His anger wasn’t disobedience, it was desperation — a tiny heart fighting for the comfort it needed most.
