The morning sun peeked through the tall banana trees, casting dappled shadows across the yard. The air was fresh, carrying the sweet scent of ripe mangoes that had fallen from the tree overnight. Everyone in the household was cheerful and busy—everyone, that is, except Baby Monkey.
He sat on a little wooden stool in the corner, his arms crossed tightly across his tiny chest, lips pushed into a pout, and his big round eyes looking everywhere except at the people who passed by. Baby Monkey was sulking.
It wasn’t the first time he had worn that grumpy expression, but today it was especially dramatic. His fluffy cheeks puffed out, his tail twitched angrily, and every so often he let out a soft “hmph!” as if to remind everyone that he was not happy.
“Baby Monkey, what’s wrong?” asked Sumi, the little girl who loved taking care of him. She crouched beside him, trying to peek into his eyes. But Baby Monkey only turned his head away, refusing to speak.
Kevin, who had been playing nearby with his toy truck, came over too. “Did someone take your snack? Or did you trip?” he asked. Baby Monkey flicked his ears and let out a sigh, but still said nothing.
The truth was, Baby Monkey felt ignored. Earlier that morning, Sumi had been busy helping her mom with breakfast, and Kevin had been caught up in his toy game. Baby Monkey had wanted to play chase in the yard, but nobody came when he tugged on their sleeves. To him, it felt like the whole world had forgotten about him, and so he decided to sulk.
He sat there imagining dramatic scenes—maybe they would notice how sad he was and come running to comfort him. Maybe they would feel sorry and bring him bananas, or milk, or even let him ride on Kevin’s little bike. His imagination swirled, but outwardly he just pouted harder.
Sumi whispered to Kevin, “I think he wants attention. Let’s try something.” She tiptoed away and came back holding a shiny red apple. She waved it in front of Baby Monkey. “Look what I’ve got! A sweet apple, just for you.”
Baby Monkey peeked for a second. His nostrils flared at the fruity smell, but he quickly turned his head and gave a little “hmph!” again. He wanted it, but he also wanted to keep sulking, to prove his point.
Kevin giggled. “He’s being stubborn.” Then Kevin placed his toy truck on the ground and rolled it gently toward Baby Monkey. “You can drive it if you want,” he said generously.
Baby Monkey glanced down, tempted by the shiny wheels, but his pride got in the way. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, pretending not to see.
The two children looked at each other. “He’s really serious today,” Sumi said.
But as the morning went on, Baby Monkey realized sulking wasn’t as fun as he thought. While he sat alone, Sumi and Kevin began a game of tag. Their laughter echoed through the yard, and even the birds seemed to join in with cheerful chirps. Baby Monkey peeked out from his corner, his heart aching to join, but his stubborn pout kept him glued to his stool.
Finally, something inside him cracked. He watched as Kevin almost tripped, and Sumi helped him up with a big laugh. Baby Monkey’s lips twitched. He tried to hold his pout, but a small giggle slipped out.
Sumi heard it right away. “I knew he couldn’t stay mad forever!” she exclaimed, running over. She wrapped her arms gently around Baby Monkey. “Were you sulking because we didn’t play with you earlier?”
Baby Monkey lowered his eyes shyly, nodding just a little. His sulky act was fading, replaced by that innocent honesty that only little ones have.
Kevin joined in, crouching down. “Sorry, buddy. We didn’t mean to make you feel left out. Want to play tag with us now?”
Baby Monkey’s eyes sparkled, though he still tried to keep a serious face. After a dramatic pause, he finally leapt into Kevin’s arms and squealed happily. His sulking was gone in an instant, replaced with pure joy.
From then on, the yard was filled with laughter and running feet. Baby Monkey chased Sumi, who squealed as she darted behind the trees. Kevin ran in circles, pretending to be a train, while Baby Monkey clung to his back, shrieking with delight.
Every so often, Baby Monkey would glance toward the stool where he had been sulking earlier. It looked so empty and silly now. Why sit alone when fun was waiting right here?
When they all finally collapsed under the mango tree, panting and laughing, Sumi gave Baby Monkey the apple she had saved. “See? Even if you’re sulking, we’ll always love you,” she said softly.
Baby Monkey nibbled on the apple, his tail curling around Sumi’s arm. He gave her a soft little kiss on the cheek, his way of saying sorry for being so dramatic. Kevin tousled his fur. “You’re funny when you sulk, but you’re even better when you laugh,” he said.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Baby Monkey snuggled against his two friends. He was warm, safe, and happy, no longer needing to sulk. He had learned something important—that sometimes, instead of hiding away with crossed arms, it was better to speak up and ask for love. Because love was always there, waiting.
The yard grew quiet as fireflies began to glow in the dusk. Baby Monkey drifted into a peaceful nap, his tiny face relaxed and free of its pout. Tomorrow might bring new adventures, but for now, everything was perfect.
