Baby Monkey Mini climbed onto the edge of the flower pot, her tiny body tense with emotion she could not control. She had reached out to Mom moments earlier, arms raised, begging to be picked up. But Mom gently shook her head, needing both hands free for just a little while. To Mini, that refusal felt like the world suddenly falling apart.
Her face scrunched tight, lips quivering before a loud cry burst out. She stomped her tiny feet on the flower pot rim, balance shaky but anger strong. Tears rolled fast down her cheeks as she screamed with all her strength, making sure Mom could hear how unhappy she was. Mini didn’t want patience. She wanted arms. She wanted comfort. She wanted Mom now.
She slapped the pot with her hands, knocking loose bits of soil that scattered onto the ground below. The rough edge felt cold beneath her, nothing like the warmth she craved. Her cries grew sharper, mixed with angry little grunts as she rocked back and forth, fighting the feeling of being ignored. Every breath shook her small chest with frustration.
Mom stayed close, watching carefully, heart aching but knowing this moment mattered. She spoke softly, reminding Mini she was still there. Mini heard the voice but couldn’t calm yet. Her temper needed space to burn out. Slowly, the screaming weakened into sobs. Her shoulders dropped. Her body sagged with exhaustion.
Finally, Mini reached out again, this time quieter, trembling. Mom stepped forward instantly and lifted her into warm arms. The crying melted into soft hiccups as Mini buried her face against Mom’s chest. The flower pot tantrum ended not with anger, but with comfort, closeness, and a lesson Mini would one day understand—Mom never left, even when she said no.
