Little baby monkey Bebe sat on the training table, his stomach growling with hunger. His eyes followed his mother closely, hoping—pleading—that she would stop the lessons and give him what he needed most: milk.
But Mama didn’t stop.
She was determined to teach Bebe how to walk, climb, and balance.
“Strong baby needs to learn,” she seemed to say with every nudge and push.
But poor Bebe wasn’t ready. His tiny body was tired, and worse—he was starving.
He started to cry, soft at first, then louder. His little fists hit the table, his lips curled, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Ma… maaa… maaa!”
His cry echoed through the trees. He opened his mouth wide, hoping mom would understand.
But Mama was focused. She kept urging him to stand, to climb the little stick. She thought she was doing the right thing—raising a strong, smart baby. She didn’t notice his shaking knees and watery eyes.
Bebe finally sat down and sobbed hard, his chest rising and falling in sharp gasps. His cry was not just from hunger—it was from confusion and sadness.
Why wouldn’t she feed him?
One of the older monkeys nearby finally noticed. She gently approached Bebe and gave him a comforting hug. That caught Mama’s attention.
She turned, and for the first time, truly saw her baby’s pain.
She rushed over, held him close, and offered him warm, comforting milk. Bebe latched on instantly, still sniffing, but slowly calming down.
His tiny hands clutched her fur tightly.
He didn’t need training.
He needed love—and milk.
