Baby monkeys Koy and Jasmine were usually bright, playful, full of energy that never seemed to run out. They loved running around the yard, climbing low branches, and chasing each other until both rolled in the dust like two fluffy fruits. But today was different. Today was lesson day. Their caregiver placed a small bowl of fruit slices on the table and gently tapped, reminding them to sit properly before eating.
Koy didn’t understand why he couldn’t immediately jump toward the food. His stomach was rumbling loudly, and the sweet smell of ripe banana made his tiny nose twitch. Jasmine, on the other hand, sat restlessly beside him, her little tail flicking, her eyes fixed on the bowl like it was treasure she couldn’t reach. When they tried to grab it with impatient hands, the caregiver gently stopped them and guided them back down, saying softly but firmly that they must sit nicely first.
Koy whimpered, his lips trembling, eyes wet with frustration. Jasmine followed, letting out a soft heartbreaking cry as if she felt the world was unfair to hungry babies. They didn’t understand why food wasn’t given immediately. Their cries grew louder, hoping sadness might change the rules.
But instead of anger, the caregiver only smiled patiently and picked them up, placing them gently on the small mat. “Good babies sit first,” she repeated, stroking their backs. Her voice was calm, not cruel—just teaching. Slowly, Koy stopped crying, blinking those teary eyes. Jasmine sniffled, wiping her tiny face on Koy’s shoulder for comfort.
Finally, when both sat still—tiny, obedient, and pitiful—the bowl was placed before them. Their cries faded into happy munching sounds. Lesson learned slowly, lovingly.
In that moment, they weren’t being punished—they were growing.
