Tiny Luca was restless from the very start of the morning. His little eyes followed Mom everywhere, his body trembling with the need for comfort. But the moment Mom tried to put him down on the soft mat to rest, he let out a sharp, piercing cry that startled everyone nearby. His voice carried the sound of desperation, a baby’s plea that could not be ignored.
He flailed his tiny arms and kicked his legs, shaking his head as if to say, “No! Don’t leave me, Mom!” The harder Mom tried to settle him gently on the mat, the louder his cries became. His small face turned red, and his mouth opened wide in a heartbreaking scream. Tiny Luca didn’t want space—he wanted the warmth of Mom’s arms and the comfort of her heartbeat.
Mom bent down again, carefully scooping him back into her embrace. Immediately, the cries softened, though his tears still flowed. He clung tightly to her, his little fingers gripping her fur as though afraid she might let go again. The difference was clear—Tiny Luca didn’t just want care, he needed closeness.
This was his way of showing love, of reminding Mom that her presence was his entire world. His sharp cries weren’t just tantrums; they were the desperate sounds of a baby monkey who feared being left alone, even for a short moment.
As Mom rocked him gently, his sobs finally faded into quiet sniffles. Safe once more, his eyes slowly closed, his tiny body curled against her chest. Peace returned, but Mom knew very well—if she tried to put him down again too soon, that sharp cry would rise once more. Tiny Luca wasn’t ready to let go
