It was a bright afternoon, and baby monkey A Tong was sitting on the kitchen counter, eyes wide and belly rumbling. His little hands drummed on the table impatiently as his nose twitched, catching the delicious smell of ripe bananas mixed with sweet coconut — his absolute favorite snack.
Mom was preparing it slowly, peeling and mashing with care, humming a tune as if time didn’t exist.
But for A Tong, it was already too late.
He started shifting in place, huffing and puffing, ears twitching in frustration. He peeked over the counter, stretched toward the bowl, then flopped backward with a dramatic sigh. His tail swished like an angry cat’s.
“EEEEEE!” he suddenly shrieked, banging his little fist on the table.
He jumped down, stomped in a circle, then climbed back up to glare at Mom.
Still no snack.
Mom turned calmly. “Just one more minute, A Tong,” she said sweetly, unaware of the storm building behind her.
That’s when he exploded — arms in the air, mouth open wide, he let out the angriest baby monkey cry of the day.
“EEEHHHHH!!”
He flopped onto the table and rolled dramatically onto his back, kicking his legs. He even picked up a spoon and lightly tossed it aside in protest.
Finally, Mom turned with the bowl and smiled. “Here you go, my little hot chili.”
In a flash, A Tong sat up straight, eyes shining, all tantrum forgotten. He grabbed the bowl with both hands and dug in with a satisfied grunt.
