It was early morning, and the sun had just started peeking through the leaves. Most baby monkeys were stretching and yawning, ready to start the day. But not Ricky.
Ricky had a different plan:
Be moody. Be loud. Be dramatic.
The moment his human mom placed him on the little table for his morning bath, he let out a deep, grumpy moan.
“Ehhhhhhh… eeeehhh!!”
His eyebrows furrowed, and his tiny lips pouted like he’d just been handed the worst news in the world.
The water was warm. The soap was gentle. But Ricky?
He acted like it was a disaster.
He kicked his feet. He twisted away from the sponge. He slapped the towel with a loud thud. All the while, he moaned and groaned like a tired little grandpa who hadn’t had his banana yet.
“Come on, Ricky,” his caretaker said gently, trying to clean behind his ears.
But he leaned even harder into his attitude, letting out an angry squeak and flopping flat on the table, arms spread like a protest.
Still, she continued calmly—washing him, drying his fur, and humming softly. Slowly, the warm towel and loving hands began to soothe his mood. His grumbles turned to sniffles… then silence.
By the end, Ricky peeked up, saw his reflection in a nearby bowl of water—and blinked.
He looked clean. Fresh. Even… handsome.
With a tiny grunt, he jumped into his mom’s arms, tucking his head under her chin.
