Early in the soft morning light, the troop settles on a wide patch of grass under the trees. Mama monkey sits calmly, grooming Luna’s tiny head while Luna happily nurses, her little eyes half-closed in dreamy comfort.
Not far away, Chamroeun watches — and he is not pleased. He bounces from foot to foot, his tiny hands tapping his mama’s knee as if to say, “My turn! My turn now!” But Mama gently brushes him aside, focused on Luna for now.
Chamroeun doesn’t like to wait. He lets out a loud, impatient squeal that echoes through the quiet grove. When that doesn’t work, he tries again — louder, sharper, a tiny tantrum in the middle of the peaceful troop. Mama shifts her arm to block him from pushing in, but Chamroeun is determined.
Luna pauses just long enough to peek at her noisy brother with sleepy eyes, then goes back to her milk, content and calm. Her soft little tail flicks in Chamroeun’s face as if teasing him: “I got here first.”
Chamroeun shrieks again, tiny fists clenching in frustration. He tries to squeeze himself between Luna and Mama’s belly, his small body wriggling and wiggling. Mama gently lifts him back, grooming his fur to soothe him, but Chamroeun won’t be soothed.
At last, with one final squeal, he flops down beside Mama’s feet, eyes wide and pouty. For a moment, he watches Luna drink, the warm milk he wants so badly just out of reach.
Then, finally, Mama relents. She shifts Luna aside for a moment, pulling Chamroeun close. His cries melt into soft, happy squeaks as he finally nurses, eyes closing in sleepy victory.
For now, the grove is peaceful again — two babies full of milk, one patient mother, and a quiet reminder that in the troop, the loudest voice often gets the next turn.
