It was a calm afternoon in the small, cozy home, but little Ronaldo was far from calm. The newborn baby monkey sat restlessly on the wooden table, his tiny body squirming with frustration. His big round eyes followed every move his mom made in the kitchen — she was mixing his formula milk, carefully making sure it was warm and safe. But to Ronaldo, every second felt like forever.
He began with soft whimpers, little sounds of impatience. Then, as the smell of milk filled the air, his cries grew louder and sharper. “Eee! Eee!” he screamed, bouncing in place and smacking the table with his small hands. His tail twitched rapidly behind him, showing just how annoyed and hungry he really was.
Mom turned her head and said gently, “Just a moment, baby, almost done.” But Ronaldo didn’t understand. His tiny belly hurt from hunger, and all he wanted was that comforting bottle in his mouth right now. His eyes watered, and his cries turned into heartbreaking sobs. He looked at the doorway, hoping his mom would hurry up, but she was still carefully stirring the milk, making sure it was perfect for him.
Finally, Mom rushed over with the warm bottle. “Okay, okay, here you go, my hungry boy,” she said softly. The moment Ronaldo saw the bottle, his cries stopped mid-scream. His tiny hands reached up eagerly, grabbing at it. As soon as the nipple touched his lips, he latched on tightly, drinking fast and greedily, eyes closing with relief.
Mom smiled warmly, brushing a hand over his tiny head. “See? I told you, Mommy’s got you.” Ronaldo drank until his belly was full, soft sighs replacing his earlier cries. Milk dribbled down the corner of his mouth, and his tiny hands relaxed around the bottle.
When he finally finished, he let out a little burp and curled up on the towel, blinking sleepily. Mom wiped his mouth and kissed his forehead. The storm of hunger and impatience had passed, replaced by peace and love.
The house grew quiet again — only the sound of a full, happy baby monkey breathing softly after a very dramatic wait for milk.
