Little Kimmy has always been the most impatient of the troop’s babies. While the others wait calmly for Mama to finish grooming or gather fruit, Kimmy can never sit still. He wants milk now, he wants cuddles now, and he wants all of Mama’s warmth every moment.
This morning, the troop gathered near the shady old mango tree. Mamas lined up with their babies, each waiting for their turn to feed or get a sip of sweet milk. But Kimmy, small and stubborn, couldn’t stand the wait.
He tugged at Mama’s fur, squeaking loudly. He pulled her tail, scrambled into her lap, fussing and squealing while she tried to calm him. When she gently pushed him back to wait his turn, Kimmy only squealed louder — tiny feet drumming on the ground, arms flailing in desperate hunger.
His cries drew the curious eyes of the other mothers and babies, but Kimmy didn’t care. He wanted milk, he wanted it so badly that he pushed and shoved until finally Mama gave in and let him nurse.
But in his impatience, he gulped too fast. Tiny mouth sucking down warm milk quicker than his little belly could handle. His eyes fluttered, his squeaks turned into soft hiccups, and Mama tried to slow him down — but Kimmy didn’t listen.
Moments later, with a sudden, pitiful squeal, Kimmy hiccupped one last time and then — oh no — out came all the milk he’d gulped too quickly. Tiny streams spilled onto Mama’s fur and the dry leaves below.
Exhausted and embarrassed, Kimmy curled up against Mama’s chest, shivering and whimpering in her arms. Mama groomed him softly, licking his tiny head and whispering calm clicks, reminding him he was still loved — even when his impatience got the best of him
