The sun had barely risen, but the nursery was already alive with noise. Tiny squeaks, impatient chirps, and soft thuds filled the air as a group of baby monkeys bounced restlessly around their tired mom. Breakfast time was supposed to be calm — but with this bunch, it was anything but.
Mom sat in the center, holding bottles of warm milk, trying to feed one baby at a time. But patience was not her little ones’ strength. One clung to her leg, another tugged at her tail, while a third tried to grab the bottle from her hand. “Eee! Eee! EEEE!” they all cried in protest, demanding to be first.
“Alright, one by one!” Mom sighed, her voice full of both exhaustion and love. She handed the bottle to the closest baby, only for two others to immediately start squealing louder, desperate for their turn.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her fur was messy, her arms full, and her heart overflowing. She was tired — so very tired — but she couldn’t help smiling as she looked at their adorable, impatient faces.
“Patience, my little ones,” she murmured. “Everyone will get their milk.”
Eventually, after much squeaking and scrambling, all the babies had their bottles. The noisy chaos slowly turned into the soft hum of contentment as each tiny monkey drank peacefully. The room filled with gentle slurping sounds and the occasional happy sigh.
Mom finally sat back, watching them with quiet pride. Her exhaustion melted into warmth — because despite the tantrums, messes, and endless demands, these were her babies.
And as they drifted to sleep with full bellies and tiny smiles, she whispered, “You’re my sweetest trouble… and I’d do it all again tomorrow
