It was a fresh morning near the wood carving factory, where the soft hum of tools and the earthy smell of freshly cut wood filled the air. Baby monkey Emma, a feisty little soul just a few months old, was in no mood for the peaceful ambiance. Her mom had left her to play in the yard while tending to some errands, expecting Emma to entertain herself. But Emma had other plans. The yard was filled with fascinating objects for a baby monkey to explore. Pieces of wood lay scattered around, sawdust formed tiny mounds on the ground, and the occasional bird flitted by. Despite the natural playground, Emma’s heart was set on following her mom. When she realized her mom had walked away, a storm brewed inside the tiny monkey. She looked around with wide, curious eyes before letting out a loud, piercing cry that startled even the nearby workers.
Emma, determined to make her displeasure known, scrambled toward a small wood hole near a pile of carved logs. The hole was just big enough for her tiny frame. She climbed inside, wedging herself snugly, and began her tantrum. Her cries echoed from the hollow space, amplifying her anger. The workers nearby paused for a moment, exchanging amused glances as they heard the high-pitched wails of the baby monkey.
Inside the wood hole, Emma flailed her arms and stomped her little feet, kicking up specks of sawdust. Her tail swished furiously as she vented her frustration. Her tiny face was scrunched up, and tears rolled down her cheeks, creating damp patches on her soft fur. Every now and then, she peeked out of the hole, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mom, but the yard remained quiet.
“Oh, Emma, you little drama queen,” muttered one of the workers with a chuckle, shaking his head as he continued carving a piece of wood.
Emma’s cries grew louder, reaching a crescendo. She began banging her tiny fists against the inside of the wood hole, making a rhythmic thumping sound that added to the cacophony of the morning. Birds perched on nearby trees took flight, startled by the commotion. It was clear that Emma was not going to calm down until her mom returned.
After what felt like an eternity to the angry little monkey, Emma’s mom appeared at the far end of the yard. She carried a small basket of fruits and seemed unfazed by the racket her baby was causing. As soon as Emma caught sight of her mom, her cries took on a desperate tone. She scrambled out of the wood hole, her tiny hands clutching at the edges as she hauled herself out.
Covered in sawdust and looking utterly miserable, Emma bolted toward her mom on all fours, her cries now a mix of anger and relief. When she reached her mom, she clung tightly to her leg, burying her tear-streaked face into the fabric of her mom’s skirt. Her tiny body trembled with emotion.
Her mom knelt down, gently picking Emma up and cradling her in her arms. “Oh, my little troublemaker,” she said softly, brushing the sawdust from Emma’s fur. “You’re such a handful.” She offered Emma a slice of ripe banana from the basket, hoping to soothe her.
Emma, still pouting, reluctantly took the banana. She nibbled on it while snuggling into her mom’s chest. The warmth and comfort of her mom’s embrace began to calm her down. Her cries subsided into soft whimpers, and soon, she was quietly munching on the fruit, her earlier tantrum forgotten.
The workers watched the scene with smiles, shaking their heads at the antics of the little monkey. “That one’s got a fiery spirit,” one of them said with a laugh.
As the morning wore on, Emma stayed close to her mom, her adventurous spirit momentarily tamed. The wood hole that had been the epicenter of her tantrum now stood empty, a silent witness to the dramatic outburst of a baby monkey who simply couldn’t bear to be away from her mom.
