The sun was rising over the quiet field, casting golden light across the dewy grass. Everything seemed peaceful… except for one very loud baby monkey.
FiFa, the tiniest fluffball with wide eyes and a rumbling tummy, was furious.
She sat in the middle of the grass, her tiny fists clenched, tail twitching. Her sharp cry pierced the morning air:
“REEEHHH! MAAA!”
Mom was late with her morning milk.
FiFa cried louder, rolling dramatically in the grass like the world had ended. Her stomach growled again. How could Mom forget? Didn’t she know FiFa’s belly was the most important thing in the whole jungle?
She looked around angrily, her eyes watering. No Mom. No milk. Just annoying bugs and cold grass.
So she screamed louder.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEHH!!”
Finally, through the trees, Mom appeared—calm, gentle, holding a fresh warm bottle of milk made just for FiFa. But by now, FiFa was full drama mode.
She turned her head, slapped the grass, and let out another high-pitched shriek, too upset to even accept comfort.
“Too late, Mom!” her tantrum said.
But Mom knew her little one well. She sat beside her without speaking, gently rubbing her back. After a minute, FiFa sniffled, peeked over at the bottle, and slowly reached out.
One sip.
Then two.
And just like that… silence.
FiFa curled into Mom’s lap, drinking with slow, angry gulps. Her cries faded into tiny hiccups, her anger washed away by warm milk and warm arms.
Mom kissed her forehead. “Next time, I’ll be quicker.”
FiFa blinked up, eyes still full of attitude—but her heart already forgiven. Because even the grumpiest babies need love and lunch.
