Under the gentle shade of the big old fig tree, tiny Yuri sits on a low branch, his round eyes locked on Chamroeun — the other little monkey who always seems to get the best spot near Mama.
Today, Mama monkey is resting quietly with Chamroeun curled close by her side. He’s snuggled into her soft belly, warm and safe, half asleep as Mama grooms his fur with gentle fingers. But up on the branch, Yuri can’t stand it.
He shifts and squirms, his little face twisting into a pout. A small whimper slips out, then grows into a sharp, squeaky cry. Mama glances up, but stays where she is, her hand still smoothing Chamroeun’s fur. That only makes Yuri squeal louder — a big, dramatic wail that echoes through the quiet clearing.
He climbs down from his branch, belly dragging against the trunk as he hurries over, still squeaking in protest. He plops himself right next to Mama’s leg, shoving Chamroeun with a tiny push of his hand, as if to say, “Move over! My turn!”
Chamroeun barely opens one sleepy eye, ignoring the push as he burrows closer to Mama. Yuri’s squeal turns into a loud, pitiful cry. He stamps his tiny feet in the dirt, sniffling big dramatic sniffles for everyone to hear.
A few older monkeys peek over, half-amused by Yuri’s show. Mama sighs softly, scooping him up with her free arm. Instantly, Yuri hushes — the moment her warm fur wraps around him, the tears stop. He buries his nose in Mama’s chest, glaring at Chamroeun with sleepy triumph.
For now, both babies are snuggled in close, two warm bellies pressed against Mama’s side — and the only sound left is Yuri’s tiny, satisfied hum as he drifts off to sleep, drama forgotten for now.
