Little Moly sat on the floor, arms crossed, lips trembling, and eyes filled with big, watery tears. In front of her was a bowl—warm, soft-boiled potatoes mixed with milk. It was meant to be comforting, nutritious, and easy to eat.
But to Moly? It was the worst thing ever.
As soon as the spoon came close, she turned her head sharply.
“Eeeh!! Waaaah!!” she cried, pushing it away with her tiny hands.
Her caregiver tried again, gently scooping up the mashed mix and smiling, “Come on, Moly… just one bite.”
But Moly wasn’t having it. She let out a loud, sharp wail, shaking her head so hard her ears flopped. Her face crinkled into a frown, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She wasn’t being naughty—she was just honestly upset.
No one knew why she hated it. Maybe it was the smell, the warm texture, or just the idea of eating when she missed her mom. Whatever it was, Moly’s cries echoed through the room.
Another baby monkey peeked over curiously, watching her dramatic protest. A few older monkeys giggled softly. But for Moly, it was no joke. She didn’t want that food. She wanted something else—maybe a cuddle, maybe fruit, or maybe just her mom.
Finally, the caregiver set the bowl aside and picked her up. Rocking her gently, she whispered, “It’s okay, little one. You don’t have to eat it now.”
Moly calmed down slowly, burying her face in the soft shirt and letting out one last sniffle.
