The sun was just beginning to set behind the trees, painting the forest in soft gold and pink. In the middle of a quiet clearing, a tiny baby monkey sat on a smooth stone, belly rumbling louder than the chirping birds above.
His big round eyes darted around, searching for Mama. She was nearby, grooming another youngster while chattering gently with the other mothers. The baby monkey called out in tiny squeaks, his voice thin and urgent. He wanted milk — warm, sweet, safe.
But Mama didn’t hear him right away. She was busy fussing over her older baby, so the little one waddled closer, sniffing the air for the only thing that mattered — milk. Nearby, in a small coconut bowl that the caretaker had left out, a fresh splash of warm milk waited for any little ones brave enough to sip.
The baby monkey’s nose twitched. His tiny hands touched the edge of the bowl, sticky with drops of milk. He leaned in, sniffed, and before anyone could stop him — splash! — he toppled right in.
Half his tiny body sank into the warm milk, fur soaking through in seconds. He squeaked in surprise, but instead of crying, he leaned down, mouth open, slurping as much as he could. Little bubbles popped around his fuzzy belly as he paddled clumsily, desperate to fill his empty tummy.
A few older monkeys squealed in surprise, gathering around to watch the soggy drama. Mama finally turned, eyes wide when she saw her baby half-floating, half-drinking in the milk bowl. She rushed over, lifting him out carefully. Milk dripped from his fur in tiny streams as he let out a satisfied hiccup, still licking his lips for the last sweet drops.
Wrapped in Mama’s arms, warm and full, he snuggled close — dreaming of more milk and silly adventures tomorrow.
