In the warm morning light of the forest clearing, Baby Monkey Lizza clung closely to her mother, her tiny stomach rumbling with hunger. She had already nursed a little earlier, but the feeling of fullness never stayed long for such a small, energetic baby. As soon as she felt that empty ache again, Lizza hurried to her mother with soft chirps that quickly grew louder. Her cries echoed through the trees—high, sharp, and full of urgency.
Mom, however, had different plans. After spending most of the night awake keeping watch and moving through the troop, she was tired and needed a moment to rest. When Lizza clung to her chest, trying to reach for milk again, the mother gently pushed her away. It wasn’t anger meant to harm—it was part of natural weaning and teaching, though to Lizza it felt unfair and confusing.
Lizza cried even louder, her little voice rising into a sharp scream that made nearby monkeys turn their heads. She stomped her tiny feet, tail flicking in frustration, doing everything she could to convince her mom that she needed more milk. Her mom watched calmly from a short distance, keeping an eye on her but still refusing the request. This was her way of teaching Lizza to begin exploring solid foods, leaves, and fruits around the forest floor.
Eventually, Lizza’s tantrum slowed to softer whimpers as she realized milk would not come again so soon. Her mother moved closer, offering comfort through gentle grooming. Little by little, Lizza relaxed, leaning into the familiar warmth.
Though she still wished for more milk, the moment reminded her that even when mom refused, she never stopped caring. And as the afternoon sun shone through the trees, Lizza followed her mom again—still hungry, but safe and learning.
