Robin, the tiny baby monkey, sat on the edge of the soft blanket, his little body shaking with frustration. His stomach was empty, and he wanted milk right away. But when mom stepped aside to prepare the bottle, Robin’s face changed instantly—his lips curled, his tiny teeth showed, and his eyes narrowed with impatience.
“Just wait a moment, little one,” mom whispered, but Robin didn’t want to wait. He began to scream loudly, throwing his head back and kicking his little legs against the blanket. His tiny fists clenched, and his tail thumped in short, jerky movements, showing just how upset he was.
The louder his cries grew, the faster mom tried to work. The milk needed to be warmed to just the right temperature, not too hot and not too cold, and Robin couldn’t understand why it was taking so long. To him, every second felt endless. He moaned, rolled to his side, and then turned back again, his cries echoing around the room.
Finally, mom came closer with the bottle in hand. But Robin was still angry—his face wet with tears, his body shaking with sobs. When the nipple touched his lips, he pushed it away for a moment as if to say, “You made me wait too long.” Yet, his hunger soon won. He latched onto the bottle, drinking greedily, his cries fading into soft, tired whimpers.
When his belly was full, Robin pressed his face against mom’s chest, his anger slowly melting into comfort. The tantrum was over, but it showed just how deeply he depended on her. To Robin, milk wasn’t just food—it was love, safety, and warmth.
