It was a noisy morning in the backyard, where the wind rustled through a patch of messy bamboo trees and two tiny baby monkeys — Jr. and JB — were on the verge of a full-blown meltdown.
Daddy had stepped out with a bottle in hand, but it wasn’t fast enough for these two. They were already scrambling across the dry bamboo leaves, crying loudly with hungry little bellies.
“EEEHH!! EEEEH!!” Jr. yelled, gripping a thin bamboo stalk, shaking it as if demanding the milk come faster.
JB was more dramatic — he rolled on the ground under the trees, tail twitching, fists pounding the dirt. “AHHH! EEEEK!” he wailed, his little face turning red.
Daddy tried to calm them. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Just wait a second!”
But waiting wasn’t in their vocabulary.
The bamboo grove echoed with their cries as birds flew off in surprise. JB climbed halfway up a bamboo trunk, then slid down, grabbing at Daddy’s shirt when he got closer. Jr. hopped in circles, eyes locked on the milk bottle like it was a treasure chest.
Finally, Daddy dropped to his knees with two warm bottles, and instantly the screaming stopped.
Both boys lunged forward, grabbed their bottles, and sat under the bamboo shade, guzzling like little champions.
The only sound now was the gentle slurp of happy sipping.
Daddy exhaled, wiping sweat off his forehead. “You boys sure know how to start drama in the jungle corner.”
As the bamboo leaves swayed above them, Jr. leaned on JB, and both yawned, full and satisfied.
From chaos to calm — milk had once again saved the day.
