Morning sunlight drifted through the window as little Ozil sat on his soft mat, rubbing his tiny eyes after waking up. His tummy rumbled loudly, reminding him of the most important thing in his world—his morning milk. Ozil looked around, hoping his bottle would appear instantly, but Dad was still preparing it in the kitchen.
At first, Ozil tried to wait patiently. He hugged his small blanket, rocked side to side, and sniffed the air, hoping to smell warm formula. But when the bottle didn’t arrive fast enough, his patience suddenly ran out.
Ozil’s face changed. His eyebrows scrunched, his lips trembled, and then—
He exploded into loud, desperate crying.
He threw his head back and screamed with every bit of strength his tiny body had. His little feet kicked on the floor, his hands waved in the air, begging for someone to hurry. To him, waiting even one more second felt like forever.
Dad rushed in, holding the bottle, shocked by how dramatic the little boy had become. “Okay, okay! Milk is here!” he said gently, but Ozil was already deep in his tantrum.
Ozil cried so hard that he could barely hear anything. He looked at Dad with tears covering his cheeks, like he was saying, “Why so slow? I’m starving!”
Dad lifted him into his arms and placed the bottle into his tiny hands. Suddenly, the world became peaceful again.
Ozil grabbed the bottle like treasure and began drinking so quickly that his cheeks puffed out. His breathing slowed, his cries disappeared, and his little body melted into comfort.
Dad gently stroked his head while Ozil drank, closing his eyes with relief and happiness.
For such a tiny monkey, hunger was a big emotion—but love and warm milk always saved the day in the end.
