Little Floyd was not in the mood to wait.
The baby monkey sat on the edge of the soft mat, rocking side to side, crying louder with every passing second. His tiny hands reached out, his mouth wide open in frustration. His tummy was rumbling, and he only knew one cure: his milk bottle!
But Mom was still cleaning it.
She stood nearby, carefully rinsing and preparing it—making sure it was safe and warm for him. But to Floyd, that process was taking forever.
“Eeek! Eeeek!” he squealed, pacing in little circles, then flopping dramatically onto the floor. He kicked his legs and rolled over, then sat up again and let out a long, sharp wail. The tears welled up, and his whole face scrunched in impatience.
He didn’t understand that Mom was doing it for him—he only knew the bottle wasn’t in his hands yet, and he was starving!
At one point, he crawled over and tugged at Mom’s leg with both arms, looking up with pleading eyes as if to say, “Just gimme the milk now, please!”
Finally, the bottle was ready.
Mom turned with a smile and handed it to him. The instant Floyd grabbed it, he fell completely silent. His lips latched on, his eyes fluttered closed, and the world melted away.
In that magical moment, everything was perfect.
His cries faded, his breath slowed, and with every sip, his little belly filled with warmth and peace.
Sometimes, patience is hard when you’re small and hungry—but love always shows up, clean bottle and all.
