Little Bella, the baby monkey girl, was always in a rush when it came to her milk. The moment she felt hungry, she would squeak, tug, and fuss until her mother finally gave in. But lately, Bella’s impatience had grown worse. She would pull too hard, climb too fast, and cry too loudly, leaving her mother both tired and worried.
One morning, as Bella scrambled into her mother’s arms demanding milk, she was stopped. Her mother gently but firmly placed a hand on her, giving her a soft warning look. Bella blinked in confusion, her little lips trembling as if to say, “Why not now?”
The warning wasn’t cruel—it was a lesson. Her mother wanted Bella to learn patience, to know that manners mattered even in her tiny world. Bella squeaked unhappily, bouncing in frustration, her tail flicking as if she might burst into tears. Yet, her mother did not move, waiting for Bella to calm herself.
Slowly, the little one realized her fussing would not work. She sat still, her tiny chest rising and falling, and lowered her squeaks into soft whimpers. Only then did her mother gather her close, letting Bella nestle against her warm fur. At last, the milk was given.
The moment Bella began to drink, her anger melted away. She clung tightly to her mother, soothed not only by the milk but by the comfort of her arms. The warning had been clear—patience first, reward after.
Though still small and learning, Bella’s heart absorbed the lesson: love and milk flowed best when she listened, waited, and trusted.
