The morning sun poured gently into the living room, but little Mako wasn’t feeling gentle at all. With sleepy eyes and a rumbling tummy, the baby monkey sat in the middle of the floor, arms crossed and lower lip sticking out.
“Eehh… eehh… ehhh!” he cried softly, voice filled with desperation.
He looked around the room—Mom wasn’t there. She was in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. But for Mako, waiting even one more minute felt impossible. His belly growled again, louder this time, and his teary eyes welled up with frustration.
“Mamaaa!” he whined, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Where’s my milky?”
His little legs kicked the air as he rolled side to side, making sure anyone nearby could hear how very hard it was to wait. His favorite stuffed banana lay next to him, ignored. All he wanted was warm milk and maybe a soft piece of fruit—now.
Finally, Mommy walked in, holding his warm morning bottle.
“There you are, my hungry boy,” she said sweetly.
Mako sat up instantly, reaching out with both arms and a sniffle. The moment the bottle touched his lips, he sighed with relief, eyes closing as he drank happily.
Mom gently rubbed his head. “Such big drama for such a small belly,” she chuckled.
After finishing every last drop, Mako curled into her lap, no longer crying. He gave one tiny burp and a satisfied smile before resting his head against her chest.
He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t sad. He was just full, loved, and exactly where he wanted to be.
For baby Mako, breakfast wasn’t just about food—it was about feeling safe, seen, and cared for.
And Mom always made sure he got all three. 🍼🐒❤️
