Little PavPav, the baby monkey, had the patience of a monk—at least when it came to food.
It was late afternoon, and Mama was busy preparing a meal in the corner. She was peeling bananas, mashing fruits, and arranging everything just right. PavPav could smell the sweetness in the air. His tummy rumbled. But instead of throwing a tantrum like other baby monkeys might…
He froze.
PavPav sat upright, paws on his knees, back straight, eyes locked on Mama like a perfectly carved monkey statue. He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. Not even a tail flick.
Caretakers walked by and giggled at the sight. “Look at him,” one whispered. “He looks like a stone monkey guarding a temple.”
Indeed, PavPav wasn’t crying or begging. He had developed a unique strategy—silent guilt-tripping. The stiller he sat, the more pressure Mama might feel to hurry.
Every now and then, Mama glanced over her shoulder. PavPav didn’t react. Just sat there, expression serious and full of hope.
Finally, Mama gave in. With a chuckle, she brought over a soft piece of banana. The moment PavPav saw it, he sprang to life—statue no more!
He squealed in delight, grabbed the food gently, and started munching with pure joy. His stillness was gone, replaced with happy wiggles and tail swishes.
Mama sat beside him, amused by her clever little boy.
Because in a world full of noisy demands, PavPav had mastered the art of silent patience—and it totally worked. 🐒🗿🍌
