The forest was quiet that morning, except for the rustle of leaves and the soft songs of birds. But suddenly, a loud cry broke the peace — a baby monkey was screaming so hard that even the parrots paused mid-chatter.
The little monkey, Milo, was sitting on a rock with his arms crossed and his tiny face full of anger. His mother had just taken away the piece of fruit he was playing with. It wasn’t that he was hungry — he simply didn’t want anyone touching his favorite mango.
When his mother tried to clean it, Milo let out a furious shriek. He stamped his feet, threw leaves in the air, and cried so loudly that every nearby monkey turned to look. His little chest rose and fell quickly, his eyes wet with tears and frustration.
“Milo!” his mother called softly. “Stop crying, my baby.”
But Milo didn’t stop. He threw himself on the ground, rolling and kicking, his voice echoing through the trees. His cries were a mix of anger, sadness, and confusion — the kind that only a baby could express.
His mother sighed but didn’t scold him. She sat nearby, watching quietly, letting him release his feelings. After a while, Milo’s voice began to fade. His breathing slowed. He sniffled, looking up at her with tired, watery eyes.
Seeing that her baby had calmed down, his mother gently picked up the mango again. She peeled a soft piece and handed it to him. “Here,” she said kindly. “Now eat, my little one.”
Milo blinked, then took the fruit with both hands. He started to eat, still sniffling but no longer angry. His mother smiled and stroked his head gently.
Soon, Milo was quiet again, sitting safely in her lap as the forest sounds returned. The tantrum was over, and peace had returned to the trees.
Even though his cry had shaken the whole forest, his mother’s love was stronger — gentle enough to calm even the loudest baby heart.
