Deep inside the green canopy of the jungle, the sun rose gently, casting golden rays on the treetops. Among the branches, a small group of monkeys stirred awake, including one playful and stubborn little baby named Mino. Mino was still quite young, with fluffy fur and curious bright eyes. He had reached the age when most baby monkeys began to wean from their mothers, learning how to eat fruits, leaves, and insects on their own. But for Mino, this idea was completely unacceptable.
His mother, Sela, had been slowly trying to stop nursing him. Each day, she spent more time moving around, foraging, and showing him how to find food. She would gently push Mino away when he reached for her belly to nurse. But Mino, being a determined and clever little monkey, was not giving up easily. He still found every chance to cling to her and beg for milk, crying softly and trying to slip under her arm to latch on.
This morning, Sela was climbing a thick tree in search of ripe figs. She moved quickly from branch to branch, hoping her energy and movement would make Mino lose interest in feeding. But Mino, full of spirit, clung to her fur tightly, trying to crawl around to her belly even as she leapt through the trees. The troop watched with mild amusement. Older monkeys recognized this scene all too well — the classic struggle between a mother trying to wean and a baby refusing to grow up.
At one point, Sela sat on a thick branch, enjoying a cluster of figs. She chewed slowly, keeping an eye on Mino. He sat next to her, watching her every move, pretending to play with a leaf but inching closer to her chest. With a sudden dash, he tried again to suckle. Sela pushed him back with her arm, letting out a short bark of warning. Mino let out a squeaky protest, rolled on his back dramatically, and kicked the air with frustration.
But just minutes later, he climbed onto her again, hugging her tightly. Sela sighed and let him nurse briefly, giving in to his persistence. Mino’s face lit up with satisfaction as he got what he wanted, if only for a moment.
As the day went on, Mino began mimicking other juveniles. He picked at some berries, chewed on bark, and tried catching ants with his tiny fingers — though he still clearly preferred the comfort of milk. The troop moved on through the jungle, and Mino followed his mom closely, never straying far.
By sunset, Sela lay on a low branch, grooming Mino with gentle licks. He snuggled close to her, quiet and content. The weaning journey was not over, and though Sela remained patient, she knew Mino had a long way to go before truly becoming independent.
In the jungle, each day brought new lessons. And for little Mino, refusing to stop getting milk was simply part of growing up — on his own stubborn terms.
