In a cozy backyard under the shade of a mango tree, baby monkey Milo sat proudly on a folding chair, his tiny feet dangling, his hands holding a cracker. It was his “big boy seat,” and he loved feeling tall and grown-up.
Nearby, Daddy Monkey lounged with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Milo took a bite of his snack, glancing at Dad with a proud grin. But then… Dad crept closer, crouching low like a jungle ninja.
“Milo…” he whispered. “That’s my chair!”
Milo’s eyes widened.
“Nooooo!” he squeaked, clutching the chair arms like his life depended on it.
Dad lunged forward, making pretend monster noises. “Raaaah! I’m gonna tickle that belly and steal that chair!”
Milo let out a high-pitched squeal and burst into dramatic monkey tears.
“WAAAAAAAHHH!!”
He flopped backward in the chair like he’d been defeated, his cracker tumbling to the ground. His tiny hands covered his face while his tail twitched in distress.
Dad froze, realizing his little joke had gone a bit too far.
“Oh no, Milo! I was just playing!” he said, scooping up the little one and cradling him in his arms.
Milo sniffled, eyes puffy, lips trembling. “You scare me…” he whimpered.
Dad gently rocked him, brushing crumbs off his fur. “I didn’t mean to, little peanut. You’re the king of the chair, okay? Forever!”
Milo blinked, slowly calming. Then, through his tears, he managed a tiny smile.
“Chair king?”
“Chair king,” Dad nodded.
Later that day, Milo was back in his throne — a crown (made of leaves) on his head, and Dad kneeling at his feet with a pretend trumpet.
Lesson learned: never underestimate how serious a baby monkey takes his folding chair.
