The morning sun crept gently through the trees of the little village, filling the yard with soft golden light. On the porch sat a wooden chair where Mom usually rocked back and forth, and today in her lap was the tiniest creature everyone adored—a baby monkey. His fur was still fluffy like cotton, his big round eyes shone with curiosity, and his little fingers curled tightly around the edge of the bottle in Mom’s hand.
The bottle was filled with warm milk, and the baby monkey was drinking it eagerly, his small mouth making quiet slurping sounds. Every time he stopped to breathe, he looked up at Mom with an expression of complete trust, as if to say, Please don’t stop, I need more.
Mom chuckled softly. “Drink slowly, little one,” she whispered, tilting the bottle just enough so the milk wouldn’t spill.
A Precious Routine
For the last few weeks, feeding the baby monkey had become part of the family’s daily routine. Ever since Dad had found him near the edge of the forest, alone and frightened, they had taken him in. He was too young to eat fruits or solid food, so Mom prepared warm milk for him three times a day.
The first time he had the bottle, the baby monkey had been nervous. He clutched Mom’s fingers tightly, unsure whether the strange thing would taste good. But once he realized it was sweet, warm, and comforting, he clung to it with all his strength. Now, every morning when he saw Mom holding the bottle, he squeaked with excitement, bouncing on her lap until the first drop touched his lips.
Brothers and Sisters Watching
While the baby monkey drank his milk, the children—Lala and Cutis—gathered nearby to watch.
“Look at him!” Lala said, giggling. “He’s holding the bottle all by himself!”
Cutis leaned closer. “He looks like a real baby! Only hairier.”
The monkey paused, glanced at them with wide eyes, then went back to drinking, as if nothing else in the world mattered except finishing every last drop. Milk dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it with his tiny hand before continuing.
Mom smiled at the children. “He’s growing stronger every day. Soon, he’ll be ready to try fruits.”
“Bananas?” asked Lala.
“Maybe bananas, but soft ones,” Mom replied. “For now, milk is the best.”
A World of Love
The baby monkey didn’t just drink for nourishment—he drank for comfort. Every time he curled up on Mom’s lap with the bottle, he felt safe and loved. The warmth of the milk reminded him of the bond he had lost in the forest, the comfort of being cared for.
Mom sometimes hummed as she fed him, and the baby monkey’s eyes would slowly close, his body relaxing as though he were listening to the gentlest lullaby.
When the bottle was empty, he always tapped it with his tiny fingers, as if asking for just a little more. And sometimes, if he was still hungry, Mom prepared another half-bottle.
Playtime After Milk
After drinking, the baby monkey was full of energy. He bounced from Mom’s lap onto the ground, chasing after Lala and Cutis. His little belly stuck out, round and tight, and the children laughed every time he tried to jump but stumbled instead.
“Slow down!” Lala cried. “You’re too full!”
But the monkey didn’t care. With newfound strength from the milk, he climbed onto the low wooden table, swung from the edge, and landed back on the floor. He screeched happily, showing off his energy.
Cutis picked up a toy ball and rolled it across the yard. The monkey ran after it, still clumsy but determined. When he finally caught it, he hugged it proudly, as if it were his treasure.
Visitors Curious About the Baby
Word spread quickly through the village that the family was caring for a baby monkey. Neighbors often stopped by to watch him drink milk.
“He looks so peaceful when he feeds,” one woman said. “Like a little human baby.”
“Yes,” another man agreed. “Animals feel love just like we do.”
The children enjoyed the attention, but they also made sure the monkey wasn’t overwhelmed. Mom always said, “He’s still small. We must treat him gently.”
And so, every visitor who came had to sit quietly while the baby monkey had his bottle.
A Moment of Mischief
One afternoon, however, the baby monkey decided he didn’t want to wait for Mom to prepare the milk. He spotted the bottle sitting on the table and scurried over to grab it.
“Hey! Not yet!” Cutis shouted, running after him.
But the monkey was quick. He clutched the bottle tightly, trying to suck at the tip, even though it was still empty. When he realized no milk was coming out, he squeaked angrily and shook it with both hands.
Mom laughed and gently took it back. “Patience, little one. It has to be warm first.”
The monkey clung to her arm, unwilling to let go, until she finally filled the bottle and placed it back into his eager hands. He drank noisily, satisfied again.
Growing Stronger
With every passing week, the baby monkey grew healthier. His fur became shinier, his jumps more confident, and his playful nature more mischievous. But no matter how much he grew, his favorite time of day remained the same—the moment when he got to drink his milk.
Even after exploring the yard, climbing trees, or chasing butterflies, he always returned to Mom when he was hungry, curling up in her arms and searching for the familiar bottle. It was his comfort, his joy, and his proof that he was loved.
A Bond for Life
One evening, as the sky turned orange and the air cooled, Mom sat on the porch feeding the baby monkey. He drank slowly, his eyes heavy with sleep. Lala and Cutis sat beside her, stroking his fur gently.
“He’s part of our family now,” Lala whispered.
“Yes,” Mom said softly. “He may not stay forever—someday he’ll be strong enough to live with others of his kind—but while he’s here, we’ll give him all the love he needs.”
The baby monkey finished the last drop, licked the tip of the bottle, and then nestled against Mom’s chest. His tiny breaths slowed, and soon he drifted into sleep.
Everyone sat quietly, watching the peaceful little creature, realizing how something as simple as milk could carry so much meaning. It wasn’t just food—it was comfort, safety, and love.
The Lesson of the Baby Monkey
As the days turned into weeks, the baby monkey’s routine continued. Drink milk, play, explore, and rest. And each time, the family grew closer, not just to him, but to one another.
Through him, they learned patience. Through him, they learned compassion. And through his simple joy in drinking milk, they remembered that sometimes the smallest moments—like a baby monkey curled up in your arms—are the most precious of all.
