The quiet morning at home quickly turned chaotic when Yuri, the baby monkey, began her dramatic performance. Perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, her small frame was vibrating with impatience. She let out a piercing scream, her tiny fists banging against the surface. Her large eyes were fixed on her mother, who was busy preparing milk, seemingly unbothered by Yuri’s tantrum.
Yuri wasn’t having it. She let out another high-pitched wail, throwing herself backward dramatically as if the delay in her milk was the greatest injustice in the world. “Eee-eeek!” she shrieked, jumping straight into the air. Her little legs propelled her higher than anyone would expect from such a small creature, landing her on the back of the kitchen chair.
Her mother, glancing over her shoulder, sighed and said, “Just one more minute, Yuri. Calm down.” But calm was not in Yuri’s vocabulary that morning. She leapt again, this time onto the table, her tiny tail swishing furiously.
The more her mother ignored her theatrics, the more Yuri escalated. She began hopping back and forth across the room, her shrieks echoing like a fire alarm. Her dramatic gestures only grew more elaborate, and she started clutching her belly as though the delay was life-threatening.
Finally, the bottle was ready. Yuri’s mother turned around, holding it up like a trophy of peace. Yuri froze mid-jump, her tantrum instantly forgotten. She scrambled down from her perch and dashed toward her mother, grabbing the bottle with both hands.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” her mother chuckled. Yuri, now happily suckling on the bottle, gave her a quick glare as if to say, It absolutely was!
The house returned to quiet once again—until the next delay in milk time.
