Baby monkey Jasmine cried nonstop, her small body stiff with anger and frustration. No matter how gently Mom held her, the crying only grew louder. Jasmine twisted in her arms, kicking and screaming, her face red and wet with tears. She didn’t want comfort. She wanted everything her own way, and nothing Mom did felt right.
Mom rocked her slowly, whispering soft words meant to soothe. She checked Jasmine’s hands, her feet, her face—nothing was wrong. Yet the crying continued, sharp and demanding. Jasmine arched her back, pushing away even while crying for attention. Her tiny chest heaved as if her emotions were too big to handle.
Mom sat down, patience thinning but love still strong. She wiped Jasmine’s tears, only for more to fall instantly. Jasmine slapped the air angrily, screaming again, louder than before. The sound filled the room, heavy and exhausting. Mom’s arms ached, her heart even more. Comforting a nasty mood was harder than any physical task.
She tried changing positions, humming softly, even giving a gentle pat. Nothing worked. Jasmine cried as if she had been wronged deeply, though she couldn’t explain why. Finally, Mom stopped trying to fix everything. She held Jasmine close and stayed still, letting the storm pass on its own.
Slowly, the cries weakened into broken sobs. Jasmine’s body relaxed inch by inch. Her grip softened. She leaned her head against Mom’s chest, breathing unevenly but calmer. Mom stroked her back quietly, saying nothing, just being there. At last, Jasmine sighed deeply, eyes closing halfway. The nasty mood faded, replaced by tired comfort. That moment reminded Mom that sometimes love isn’t about stopping the tears—it’s about staying through them. And Jasmine, finally calm, felt that love holding her steady.
