In the warm, sunlit courtyard of a small village home, a baby monkey named Mimi was having one of her most dramatic mornings ever. Normally, Mimi was cheerful, playful, and full of curious energy. She loved climbing on bamboo poles, swinging from the clothesline, and sneaking into the kitchen to look for fruit. But today… oh, today was different.
Today, Mimi was angry.
And not just a little upset—she was pouting, stomping, tail-flicking angry at her owner, Dara.
It all started early that morning, just after sunrise. Dara had been cleaning the house and found a small wooden bowl of bananas he had been saving. Mimi loved bananas more than anything else in the world. They were her treasure, her joy, her reason to zoom around the yard excitedly. But last night, when Mimi was supposed to go to sleep, she snuck out and ate every single one.
Dara wasn’t mad—he knew she was just a baby—but he also wanted her to learn not to eat everything she saw. So he decided to give her a lesson. When Mimi came running into the kitchen expecting her breakfast banana, Dara gently tapped her nose and said, “No banana today, Mimi. You finished all of them last night. You have to wait.”
Mimi froze.
Her little eyes widened.
Her mouth opened in disbelief.
And then—her eyebrows lowered like a tiny storm cloud forming over her face.
She spun around dramatically, ran outside, climbed onto the laundry basket, and sat there with her arms crossed like a grumpy toddler. Her tail curled tightly behind her like a spring ready to snap.
Dara followed her. “Mimi, come eat your papaya. It’s sweet!”
But Mimi slowly turned her head away, refusing even to look at him. It was the classic silent treatment.
Dara tried again, holding the plate closer. “Just try one bite. One?”
Mimi’s tiny lips tightened into the smallest, angriest line imaginable. She grabbed a leaf, held it in front of her face like a shield, and refused to move. She was officially upset.
All morning, Mimi kept up her protest. She climbed the jackfruit tree and threatened to stay there forever. She tossed a small toy from the balcony. She even made a dramatic little “hmph!” sound every time Dara walked by.
The neighbors who passed by couldn’t stop laughing.
“Your monkey is acting like a little princess today,” one woman teased.
“More like a tiny grandma who lost her glasses,” another man joked.
Dara laughed too, but he also felt a tiny bit bad. He didn’t want Mimi to feel sad—he just wanted her to learn.
Later in the morning, Mimi’s anger grew even bigger. She wanted attention, but she didn’t want to admit it. She climbed down from the tree and followed Dara around silently, staying exactly two steps behind him like a shadow. If he turned around, she looked away quickly and pretended to be busy with a stick or a rock. But when he turned again, she quietly shuffled after him.
Finally, Dara sat on the wooden steps and sighed. “Mimi, I know you’re mad. But I didn’t punish you. I just want you to understand. If you eat everything at night, you don’t keep anything for the next day.”
Mimi blinked. Her little ears twitched. She understood some words, but mostly she understood tone. And Dara’s tone was gentle and apologetic. Still… she wasn’t ready to give in yet.
Then Dara brought something magical—a tiny soft brush.
Mimi loved being brushed. It made her sleepy and calm. But she refused to look. Dara gently brushed near her, making soft scratchy sounds. After a moment, Mimi peeked. She scooted closer—just one inch. Then two inches. Then she dramatically threw herself onto his lap like she had been suffering for a million years.
Dara burst out laughing. “Oh, now you forgive me?”
Mimi squeaked, pushing her head against the brush, her anger melting faster than ice in the sun.
Once she relaxed, Dara offered her the papaya again. This time, she hesitated… looked at him… then took a tiny bite. And another. Soon she was munching happily, forgetting she was ever mad at all.
But the funniest moment happened right after breakfast.
Dara brought a new basket of bananas he had bought from the market. He placed them on the table and said, “These are for later. Don’t touch.”
Mimi nodded. She looked innocent. Way too innocent.
A few minutes later, Dara turned around—and Mimi had her whole face inside the banana bunch.
“MIMI!”
Mimi froze again. Her cheeks stuffed with banana. Slowly, she pulled her face out and looked at Dara with the most guilty and adorable expression in the entire universe.
Dara couldn’t stay mad. He shook his head and picked her up. “You little troublemaker.”
Mimi wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, trying to charm her way out of trouble. And of course, it worked.
The rest of the day was full of play and laughter. Mimi wasn’t angry anymore. She jumped from his shoulder, climbed his shirt like a tiny mountain, and hid behind him whenever a chicken clucked too loudly. She even carried her favorite blanket around to show she was content again.
By sunset, Mimi was sleepy. She curled up in Dara’s lap as he sat on the porch watching the orange sky. Her tiny breaths were soft, her fingers curled around his sleeve, and her tail wrapped around his arm like a warm scarf.
Dara brushed her head gently. “Even if you get angry, you’re still my little monkey.”
Mimi opened one eye, gave a soft squeak, and snuggled closer.
And that was the end of Mimi’s dramatic, banana-less, emotion-full day. A day that started with anger but ended with cuddles, snacks, and the peaceful comfort of knowing she was loved—no matter how silly or stubborn she acted.
Because even the angriest baby monkey can’t stay mad at someone who cares for them.
