The tiny newborn monkey lay curled in Mom’s arms, his little body fragile and weak. Mom had prepared a soft mash of ripe banana, hoping the sweet scent and gentle taste would tempt him to eat. She dipped the spoon and slowly brought it to his lips, her eyes full of concern.
But the baby turned his head away, his small face pressing into Mom’s chest as if hiding from the world. His breathing was slow, and every tiny movement seemed to take effort. Mom whispered softly, her voice a tender mix of love and worry, encouraging him to take just one bite.
She tried again, touching the spoon lightly to his mouth. He opened it just a little, tasting the banana, but quickly pushed it away with a faint whimper. The refusal made Mom’s heart ache — she knew how important it was for him to gain strength, yet he seemed to have no energy to eat.
Mom adjusted her hold, rocking him gently, hoping to comfort him. She stroked his back with her fingers, her warmth trying to give him the strength his body lacked. The room was quiet except for the baby’s soft breaths and Mom’s gentle humming.
After several minutes, she managed to coax a small bite into his mouth. He chewed weakly, eyes half-closed, but at least it was something. Mom smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope shining through her worry. She knew it would be a slow, patient process, but she was determined to stay by his side, feeding him bit by bit, until he was strong enough to feed himself.
Her love was his best medicine, and she would never give up on him.
