The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the yard where little baby monkey Mato was playing. His mom had placed him near the stack of dried sticks she had gathered for the fire, thinking he would amuse himself while she worked nearby.
At first, Mato seemed content. He curiously touched the sticks, picking them up one by one, trying to balance them in his tiny hands. But soon, his playful energy shifted to frustration. A large stick slipped and bumped his arm, startling him.
“Eeeek! Eeeek!” Mato screeched, tossing the sticks aside in a sudden burst of temper. His small frame shook as he sat on the ground, pouting furiously.
Mom glanced over, recognizing the signs of one of Mato’s famous tantrums. She called out gently, “Mato, it’s okay. Come here, baby.”
But Mato refused. Instead, he screamed even louder, his face scrunched up in dramatic anguish. He tried to crawl out from under the sticks, but another one rolled and touched his back, making him cry even more.
“Eeeeeeeek!” Mato wailed, his little fists pounding the ground. Tears streaked his face as he looked around, hoping Mom would rush over and pick him up.
With a sigh, Mom walked to him, scooping him up in her arms. “Oh, my little drama king,” she said softly, wiping his tears.
As soon as Mato was in her embrace, his cries turned to soft hiccups. He clung tightly to her, burying his face in her shoulder, his earlier temper already forgotten.
Mom kissed the top of his head and sat him down in a shaded spot, far from the troublesome sticks. “There you go, safe and sound,” she said, handing him his favorite snack to calm him further.
Mato sniffled but began nibbling, his tantrum fading into a quiet pout.
