The morning started off with birds chirping and the sun peeking through the trees, but for one stubborn little baby monkey, it was a disaster in progress.
Baby Coco, known for his dramatic tantrums, was already pacing around the outdoor space, his tiny arms flailing and his mouth wide open in protest. He had been waiting patiently (well, kind of) for his morning milk. But Mom was running late today. Just a few minutes behind—but to Coco, it felt like hours.
With every second that passed, his frustration grew. He let out a sharp, echoing scream that could be heard halfway across the forest. His little face turned red with anger, his eyes filled with demanding energy as if to say, “Where is my milk, Mom?!”
He stomped his feet on the dusty ground and then threw himself into a dramatic roll, whining and groaning as though the world was ending. A few of the other baby monkeys peeked from nearby trees, wide-eyed, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned.
Then finally—Mom appeared.
She carried a fresh bottle of warm milk, walking calmly as if nothing was wrong. But Coco wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. He ran straight toward her, still screaming, grabbing her leg like a little storm cloud of fury.
Mom gently scooped him up, kissed his head, and offered the bottle. At first, he stubbornly turned his head away—pouting. But the smell of warm milk was too tempting. Within seconds, Coco latched on and sucked hungrily, eyes narrowing in sweet satisfaction.
The cries faded, the tantrum ended, and the stubborn baby was calm again—wrapped in his mom’s arms, with milk dribbling down his chin and love written all over his sleepy face.
