In the warm afternoon sunlight, the oldest mom of the troop sat proudly on a low branch, pretending she was very busy grooming her tail. Everyone knew what that meant: milk time was officially over. At least, that’s what she believed. Her baby, however, had a very different schedule and absolutely no respect for retirement plans.
The baby latched on happily, eyes half-closed, feet kicking like tiny drumsticks. Mom sighed dramatically and tried her first tactic—the slow lean. Inch by inch, she leaned away, hoping gravity would solve the problem. The baby simply stretched, never breaking contact, like a champion gymnast in a milk marathon.
Next came tactic two: the distraction. Mom pointed at a butterfly, gasped loudly, and even clapped once. The baby glanced for half a second, then returned to business with renewed focus. Milk was clearly more interesting than nature documentaries.
Growing impatient, the oldest mom tried tactic three—the fake nap. She closed her eyes, snored softly, and slumped forward. The baby took this as permission to drink even more comfortably, using mom’s belly as a pillow. A nearby auntie monkey covered her mouth, shaking with laughter.
Finally, mom attempted the classic gentle push. She nudged the baby’s head away with one finger. The baby popped off, looked shocked for exactly one second, then reattached with double determination. Victory screech included.
Defeated but amused, the oldest mom gave up. She looked around as if to say, “Fine. I tried.” The baby finished contentedly, smacked its lips, and smiled like nothing unusual had happened.
In the end, mom learned an important lesson: you can be old, wise, and experienced—but when a baby wants milk, comedy always wins.
