A-Tong woke up with a storm already brewing inside him. From the moment his eyes opened, the tiny baby monkey wore a grumpy frown that no cuddles, no food, and no warm touch could fix. It was simply a bad moody day—one of those mornings when everything felt wrong, even though nothing really was.
Mom approached him with her usual calm energy, gently brushing his cheek to greet him. But instead of leaning into her touch like he always did, A-Tong swatted her hand away and let out a sharp, angry squeak. His little tail twitched violently behind him, his tiny chest puffing with frustration. Mom blinked, surprised, but she stayed patient and steady.
A-Tong wasn’t having it.
He stomped across the grass on his tiny feet, throwing himself onto the ground as if the world had personally insulted him. Mom tried to pick him up, hoping to soothe him, but he kicked and twisted in her arms, squealing loudly. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t fear. It was pure toddler-style outrage—for absolutely no reason.
He grabbed a leaf and threw it. Then another. Then he rolled onto his back, wailing dramatically like the sky itself had upset him. Mom sat beside him, waiting for the storm in his tiny heart to calm. She didn’t scold him. She didn’t leave. She just watched him with gentle, understanding eyes.
Eventually, his screams weakened into sniffles. He peeked at his mom through watery eyes, his angry energy slowly fading. Mom opened her arms, offering comfort without a word.
A-Tong crawled into her lap at last, burying his face in her chest. His tantrum was over. His anger melted into soft whimpers, then peaceful silence.
Mom kissed the top of his head, holding him close.
Even on bad moody days, her love never wavered
