The forest was alive with morning light, soft golden beams slipping through the canopy and dappling the ground below. The air was filled with the chatter of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the distant gurgle of a stream. In the middle of all this stood a family of monkeys, swinging, climbing, and tumbling in playful chaos. But not everyone was in a cheerful mood.
At the base of an old fig tree sat a tiny baby monkey, arms folded, lips pouted, and eyes narrowed into the sulkiest glare imaginable. His name was Coco, and today, Coco was upset—with no one else but his own mother.
Why? Because, from Coco’s perspective, Mother had been unfair.
Earlier that morning, when the troop found a bunch of ripe bananas near the riverbank, Coco had reached for the biggest one. It was long, golden, and perfectly sweet-smelling. But before his tiny hands could wrap around it, Mother gently pulled it away. Instead, she broke the banana in half and gave Coco the smaller piece.
“That’s not fair!” Coco squeaked, stamping his little foot.
Mother ignored the protest. She handed the bigger half to Coco’s older sister, Lala, who had been hungry since dawn.
Coco felt betrayed. He had wanted that big banana more than anything in the world. To him, it wasn’t just a piece of fruit—it was proof of love. Why would Mother choose Lala over him? Didn’t she love him best? With tears brimming in his eyes, Coco darted to the base of the tree, plopped down, and began sulking.
Mother noticed, of course. Mothers always notice. She glanced at her little one, his back turned, his tiny tail flicking in indignation. She sighed but said nothing. She knew that baby monkeys, like all children, sometimes needed to sit with their feelings before they understood the bigger picture.
Lala, however, wasn’t as patient. She hopped down with her half-eaten banana and teased, “Why are you pouting, Coco? It’s just a banana.”
“It’s not just a banana!” Coco squealed. “It was MY banana!”
Lala giggled, swinging her banana just out of Coco’s reach. That only made him sulk harder. He covered his eyes with his little hands and refused to look at either of them.
The troop moved on through the forest, leaping from branch to branch in search of new feeding grounds. Coco lagged behind, dragging his feet. Normally, he loved clinging to Mother’s back, feeling the rhythm of her leaps. But today, he refused to hold on. He trailed miserably instead, hoping his mother would notice his suffering and come running to comfort him.
But she didn’t.
At least, not in the way he wanted.
Instead of scooping him up and promising him the biggest banana next time, she let him walk on his own. Every so often she looked back to make sure he was safe, but she let him feel his sulky independence.
The forest seemed different without her warmth close by. The trees felt taller, the shadows darker. A gust of wind rustled the leaves, and Coco shivered. Suddenly, his sulking didn’t feel so powerful anymore. It felt lonely.
By midday, the troop arrived at the stream. The cool water sparkled, and the monkeys splashed happily. Lala dipped her toes in and tossed droplets into the air. Mother scooped water in her hands and brought it to her mouth. Even the elder monkeys enjoyed the shade of overhanging branches.
But Coco stayed on the bank, arms crossed, his sulk still strong.
Mother glanced at him and smiled faintly. She reached into the bushes nearby and pulled out a bright red mango. With practiced hands, she peeled it and placed a soft piece into Lala’s hands. Then she offered some to the other monkeys.
Coco’s stomach growled. He loved mangoes more than bananas. But still, he looked away dramatically.
“I don’t care,” he muttered. “I’m not hungry.”
But his eyes betrayed him, sneaking little glances at the juicy fruit.
Finally, Mother tore a piece and quietly set it beside him on a smooth rock. She didn’t say a word. She just let the sweet smell drift toward him.
Coco tried to resist. He really did. But his tummy growled again, louder this time. After a long pause, he picked up the mango piece and nibbled it. The taste exploded in his mouth—sweet, tangy, and refreshing. His sulk cracked just a little.
When Mother saw him eating, she leaned closer and stroked his tiny head.
“My little one,” she said softly. “I know you wanted the big banana. But Lala was hungrier. You already had food earlier.”
Coco’s lower lip trembled. “But… I wanted it.”
Mother nodded. “I know. Sometimes, we don’t get the biggest piece. Sometimes, we share so everyone can grow strong.” She tapped his chest gently. “And I love you, no matter the size of the fruit you hold.”
Coco blinked. His sulky face softened, and tears pricked his eyes again—not of anger this time, but of understanding. He climbed into Mother’s lap and clung tightly to her fur.
“I still wanted it,” he whispered stubbornly.
Mother chuckled, pressing her cheek to his head. “And that’s okay. But look—you have mango now, don’t you? And you’re still my baby.”
The rest of the afternoon was brighter. Coco, though still a little pouty, followed his mother more closely. He even played a little, chasing Lala through the vines.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky orange and pink, the troop settled in the branches of a tall tree for the night. Coco curled up against Mother’s chest, warm and safe.
Before drifting to sleep, he whispered, “Next time… can I have the big banana?”
Mother smiled and kissed the top of his head. “We’ll see, little one. We’ll see.”
And with that, Coco’s sulk finally melted away, replaced by dreams of bananas, mangoes, and the endless love of his mother.
Reflection
Baby monkeys, much like human children, sometimes sulk when things don’t go their way. But through gentle patience, quiet lessons, and unwavering love, mothers teach their little ones about sharing, fairness, and the comfort of knowing they are loved no matter what. Coco’s sulking may have started with a banana, but it ended with something much sweeter: understanding and connection.
