Tiny baby monkey Tumi had been weaned for a few days now, but that didn’t stop him from trying his luck. Every time he saw Mom resting, he’d quietly crawl over, eyes wide and innocent, and gently nudge her belly with his tiny hands.
“Just a little sip,” his expression seemed to beg.
But this time, Mom wasn’t in the mood.
She’d been patient — days of pushing him away gently, redirecting him, and even walking off. But today, her mood had turned sharp. When Tumi nudged once more, then opened his mouth to latch, Mom snapped.
She gave a sharp warning bark, then swatted him with her hand — not to hurt, but to shock.
Tumi stumbled backward, eyes wide with surprise. He stood frozen, trying to understand.
But Mom wasn’t finished. She stood up, her body tense, and gave him a scolding tail flick, followed by a firm push away. Tumi fell onto his bottom with a tiny yelp, and suddenly the tears came.
“Eeeehhh! Ma-Ma!!” he cried, heartbroken.
She turned her back, pacing away, ears twitching. Tumi sobbed from behind her, confused and hurt. He didn’t want to disobey — he just missed that soft, warm feeling that made everything okay.
After a long minute, Mom glanced back.
Seeing her baby curled up, sniffling and shaking, her expression softened. She returned slowly and sat beside him. Without offering milk, she gently pulled him close and began grooming his head with soft licks.
The milk was gone, but her love was not.
Tumi rested against her chest, still learning that even tough lessons come from the deepest care. And though he didn’t get milk that day, he got something that would last even longer — a step toward growing up.
