The sky outside was quiet, but inside the house… baby monkey Harry was a storm.
He wanted attention. He wanted milk. He wanted someone to notice that he was the center of the monkey universe.
But today, Mama was silent.
She had seen Harry toss his bowl, scream for no reason, and slap his stuffed toy. She warned him gently — three times. And now, instead of reacting to his latest outburst… she simply walked to the corner and sat quietly, not even looking at him.
And that broke Harry.
His little body exploded with emotion.
“WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!” he screamed, shaking like a coconut in a storm. His arms flailed. His legs kicked. He rolled on the soft mat, spinning like a tornado.
His tiny face turned red, eyes squeezed shut, and he cried like thunder crashing through the room.
“MAAAAMAAAAA!” he shouted, expecting her to rush over.
But Mama didn’t move.
That silence? It was louder than any yelling.
Harry opened one eye. Was she even watching? Did she not care?
Now the tantrum had a new power — super convulsions. He rolled, he thrashed, he let out long, high-pitched squeals. But deep down, he was also confused, unsure if his usual drama was working anymore.
Finally… exhausted, breathless, sweaty… he stopped.
He sat still. Quiet. Looking toward Mom.
She turned her head slowly and said softly, “Are you ready to talk instead of scream?”
Harry nodded, tears dripping.
She opened her arms, and he ran into them without a word. His heart beat hard, but her hug was warm and steady.
“Big feelings are okay, baby,” she whispered, “but hurting and yelling won’t help.”
Harry didn’t speak — just clung tighter.
The storm had passed. And Mom… she’d been there all along.
