Tiny baby Tong was only a few days old, and like many newborns, he had already discovered one very powerful source of comfort — his own thumb. The moment he felt confused, or impatient, or simply wanted reassurance, he would raise that tiny hand to his mouth and begin to suck. It was a small habit, but to him, it was a calming anchor in a world that still felt enormous and unpredictable.
So when his mother gently tried to stop him from doing it, he didn’t understand why.
To Tong, it felt like being denied his little emotional “security blanket.” The moment she tapped his hand away, he looked surprised, then upset — and then, his emotions burst out through loud crying. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t injured — he was simply overwhelmed.
His cry was sharp and high — the kind of newborn sound that is half frustration, half confusion. He didn’t have words, only emotion. When babies cry, their voice is the only tool they have to express everything inside — sadness, longing, impatience, the wish for closeness, the desire for comfort.
Tong’s mother wasn’t angry. She wasn’t harsh. She gently tapped his hand away because in the wild, mothers sometimes discourage habits they believe are not helpful. Newborn monkeys learn through small boundary moments — small corrections, small redirections. That is part of natural parenting among primates.
Tong didn’t know that.
He only knew how he felt in that second.
He wriggled, he curled his toes, his tiny fingers clutched at the air, and his cry turned louder — the “please, comfort me now” kind of cry. When you watch a baby cry like that, your heart instinctively feels soft and emotional. Even as human viewers, we feel a mix of empathy and guilt — we wish the tiny one could understand words, logic, explanation. But baby monkeys live entirely through emotion.
After a short moment, Tong’s mother leaned closer again. She didn’t abandon him. She didn’t walk away. Instead, she let him cling to her chest, and the contact of her warm fur and her heartbeat gradually silenced his cries.
