Lilly, the little baby monkey, had a fiery personality that often made everyone smile. But there was one thing she truly disliked—bath time. The moment she saw the warm basin of water prepared for her, her tiny face scrunched up, and she knew what was coming.
As soon as her caretaker reached out, Lilly clung tightly to the table with her little fingers, refusing to move. She let out a sharp squeal, shaking her head furiously as if to say, “No! Not again!” Her tail whipped back and forth in protest, and her eyes grew wide with defiance.
When finally lifted toward the water, Lilly’s tantrum exploded. She kicked her tiny legs, twisted her body, and let out loud cries that filled the room. It wasn’t fear—just pure stubbornness. She screamed right at her caretaker, her tiny hands pushing away anything that came close. The splashes of water only made her cry louder, her voice rising in a dramatic protest that seemed far bigger than her small size.
But her caretaker knew this routine well. With calm patience, they spoke softly, stroking Lilly’s back until she eased slightly. Bit by bit, they dipped her into the warm water. To everyone’s surprise, her cries slowly turned to curious chirps. The warmth soothed her, and soon she was splashing softly with her little hands, forgetting the fight she had just put up.
By the end of her bath, Lilly was calm, her fur clean and fluffy, her tantrum long forgotten. Wrapped in a soft towel, she snuggled close, blinking sleepily. The drama was over, but tomorrow it would surely return—because for Baby Monkey Lilly, bath time was never just a bath. It was her stage for the biggest tantrum of the day.
