The big monkey sat high on a branch, watching quietly. His body was strong, his arms long, his face serious. For a long time, he had been the center of attention in the troop. Others followed him. Babies watched him. Adults respected him.
But today, no one was watching him.
All eyes were on the little baby.
The baby monkey lay safely in his mother’s arms below, tiny fingers gripping her fur, big eyes blinking at the world. Every small sound he made brought soft smiles. When he squeaked, someone came closer. When he moved, someone checked on him.
The big monkey felt something strange in his chest.
Jealousy.
He didn’t want to feel it, but it was there. He watched as food was brought first to the baby. He watched as others slowed their pace so the baby could keep up. Even his favorite resting spot was taken so the baby could sleep in the shade.
The big monkey frowned.
He climbed down loudly, landing with a heavy thump, hoping someone would notice him. No one did. They were too busy admiring the baby’s tiny hands and soft cries.
The big monkey made a low sound, annoyed. He grabbed a fruit and bit into it hard. The taste wasn’t sweet today. Everything felt unfair.
“I was important first,” his posture seemed to say.
He walked closer to the baby, standing tall, trying to look impressive. The baby looked up at him with wide eyes, then smiled—a small, innocent smile with no understanding of jealousy at all.
That smile made the big monkey pause.
The baby reached out a tiny hand, touching the big monkey’s finger softly. The touch was light, warm, and trusting. The baby made a happy sound, unaware of the heavy feelings inside the big monkey.
Something shifted.
The big monkey pulled his hand back at first, unsure. Then he looked around. No one was pushing him away. No one had forgotten him. They were just protecting someone smaller.
He sat down slowly, closer to the baby but not too close. He watched as the mother cleaned the baby’s face, as the baby yawned and leaned against her chest.
The big monkey remembered something.
Long ago, he had been small too. Long ago, others had watched him, protected him, fed him first. He had forgotten what it felt like to be tiny and helpless.
The jealousy softened.
The baby suddenly began to cry, loud and sharp. The mother adjusted her grip, but the baby continued, uncomfortable and restless. Others looked worried.
Without thinking, the big monkey moved closer.
He sat beside them and made a low, steady sound—deep and calm. The sound vibrated gently, filling the space with reassurance. The baby’s cries slowed. He stared at the big monkey, curious now instead of upset.
The big monkey stayed still.
The baby calmed completely.
A few monkeys looked at the big monkey with new attention—not admiration for strength, but respect for care. The big monkey felt something warmer replace the jealousy.
Purpose.
He wasn’t less important now. He was important in a different way.
As the day went on, the big monkey stayed nearby. He didn’t compete for attention. He helped guard. He shared food. When the baby slept, he sat close, alert and protective.
Jealousy had come quietly, but it left just as quietly.
In its place grew understanding.
The big monkey looked at the little baby one last time. The baby slept peacefully, safe and unaware of the emotions he had stirred.
The big monkey turned his face toward the trees, calm again.
There was room in the troop for strength and softness—for the big monkey and the little baby.
And that made everything feel right. 🐒💛
