The baby monkey was very angry with its mother because the milk came too late.
Its tiny face tightened with frustration. The soft cries it usually made turned into sharp, loud squeals. The baby kicked its little legs and waved its arms, clearly upset. Hunger had been building for too long, and now it burst out as anger—the only way the baby knew how to express it.
The baby pushed against its mother’s chest.
Not hard, but insistently. It opened its mouth wide, crying loudly, as if scolding her in its own way. Its eyes were bright and intense, filled with impatience and need. Hunger is painful for a baby, and waiting feels endless.
The mother looked tired.
Her movements were slower than usual. She adjusted her position, trying to calm the baby, pulling it closer. She made soft sounds, meant to reassure, meant to say I’m here. But the baby didn’t want comfort yet—it wanted milk.
The baby cried louder.
Its small body stiffened. It grabbed at its mother’s fur, tugging roughly, then cried again when nothing happened immediately. The anger wasn’t hate. It was desperation mixed with trust. The baby believed its mother should fix everything—and when she didn’t right away, frustration took over.
The mother finally responded.
She shifted carefully, guiding the baby closer, helping it find what it was searching for. Her hand rested gently on the baby’s back, steady and warm. She stayed patient, even as the baby fussed and complained.
Slowly, the baby calmed.
The angry cries softened into impatient whimpers. The stiff body relaxed little by little. Hunger was still there, but relief was coming. The baby’s breathing slowed. Its grip loosened.
Soon, the anger faded.
The baby settled against its mother, exhausted from crying so much. The frustration melted into quiet satisfaction. What moments ago felt unbearable was now forgotten.
The mother held the baby close, grooming its head gently.
She did not seem angry. She understood. Babies cry, protest, and get upset—not because they don’t love, but because they depend completely. Being late for milk feels like the end of the world to a newborn.
In that small moment, anger passed quickly.
What remained was closeness.
Warmth.
And the unspoken bond between a tired mother and a hungry baby—imperfect, emotional, but still full of love.
