Baby monkey Minea had always been a fiery one. Unlike the others who waited patiently, she wanted everything right now. On this day, her hunger turned into a storm. She clung to her mother’s fur, screeching loudly, her tiny face scrunched in frustration.
Her mother, tired but patient, tried to guide Minea to nurse properly. Yet Minea had other plans. She wasn’t in the mood to search or cling—she wanted the milk brought straight to her mouth. With her shrill cries echoing through the room, she stamped her little hands on her mother’s chest, pushing and pulling as if to order her around.
“Ehh! Ehh!” Minea squealed, her voice sharp and demanding. Her mother sighed deeply, shaking her head. Still, Minea kept screaming, forcing her demands louder and louder. It was as if she believed sheer noise would bend the world to her will.
Finally, her mother gave in just a little. She shifted, leaning closer so Minea could reach without effort. Instantly, Minea latched on, her tantrum fading into quiet slurps. Her tiny eyes closed in relief as the milk flowed, all her anger forgotten.
Watching her, one couldn’t help but laugh. For all her nastiness, Minea was still just a baby—spoiled, loud, but irresistibly adorable. Her mother stroked her gently, as if forgiving the noisy fuss.
Minea purred softly now, proving that even the fiercest tantrum can vanish once a hungry belly is filled.
