In the cozy room just after sunrise, the house was filled with soft monkey chatter and the smell of warm milk. Baby monkeys were already wriggling, excited for their breakfast. Among them, little Sister Yuri was the most impatient of all.
She bounced from corner to corner, her eyes locked on the milk bottles being prepared. Her tail twitched with excitement, and she let out tiny squeals every few seconds. “Ee-eee! Now! Now!”
But Mom had rules.
Yuri had been taught to sit calmly and wait her turn — a lesson she clearly wanted to skip today.
She darted forward, trying to snatch a bottle from the tray, but Mom quickly blocked her with a firm hand. Then came the finger — the one that meant “stop.” It hovered in the air, aimed right at Yuri’s little face.
Yuri froze.
Her eyes grew wide, ears flicking back slightly. Mom didn’t raise her voice, but her expression was enough: serious, steady, no-nonsense.
“Sit,” her finger seemed to say.
Reluctantly, Yuri plopped onto her bottom with a soft “hmph.” Her arms crossed. She looked to the side, trying to act like she didn’t care — but her eyes kept sneaking back toward the bottles.
The younger babies were fed first. Yuri fidgeted, legs wiggling. But she stayed put, remembering Mom’s warning.
Finally, her name was called.
She leaped up, tail high, and accepted her bottle with both hands. The first sip melted away all her frustration. She even glanced back at Mom with a sheepish little smile, as if to say, “Okay, you were right.”
