Early in the morning, the little monkey sat near the wooden door, his eyes wide and teary, his tiny body swaying back and forth impatiently. He was hungry, and his small tummy growled softly, but what bothered him even more was the wait. He knew his mom was inside preparing breakfast, yet every passing minute felt like forever.
His cries echoed through the room—short, sharp, and moody. He pouted, stomped his tiny hands on the floor, and kept glancing at the door as if his gaze alone could make it open faster. Sometimes he scratched at the edges, sometimes he lay flat on the floor, whining pitifully, then sitting up again to cry louder.
The little one didn’t understand patience. For him, love and comfort meant food, warmth, and closeness, and right now, he wanted them all at once. His moodiness grew until his cries became sharp wails, almost demanding, as though he was calling, “Mom, hurry up, I’m starving!”
Finally, the door creaked open. His mom appeared, holding a small bowl of warm milk and soft fruits. In an instant, the tears stopped, replaced by excitement. He rushed forward, clinging to her legs before quickly being scooped up into her arms. The moment food touched his lips, his little cries faded, his mood lifted, and peace returned to his tiny world.
For this baby monkey, waiting was the hardest thing of all. But once breakfast was served, all his anger melted into happiness.
