It was a sunny afternoon, and all seemed peaceful in the little sanctuary where Monkey Lyly lived with her loving mother. The birds chirped softly, the leaves rustled in the breeze, and the hammock—Mom’s favorite spot—swayed gently in the shade. But today, there was a small ball of mischief standing in the way of that peace: Lyly.
As soon as Mom tried to climb into her hammock for a much-needed nap, Lyly zoomed in like a tiny whirlwind. With wide, playful eyes and lightning-fast hands, she grabbed the edge of the hammock and tugged it away. “No, Mama!” she squeaked with her expressive little face. “Not today!”
Mom chuckled and tried again, but Lyly leaped up and clung to her mother’s leg, giggling and chattering as if playing a game of tag. It wasn’t that Lyly didn’t want her mom to rest—she just didn’t want her to rest yet. There was still fun to be had, and Lyly wasn’t quite done with her playtime. She climbed into the hammock herself, flopped around like a wild monkey (which she is, of course), and sprawled across the fabric like a queen guarding her throne.
Mom tried reasoning. She tried bribing with snacks. She even pretended to walk away sadly, hoping Lyly would feel bad and offer the hammock back. But Lyly was too clever for that. She followed her mom, tugging at her hand and pulling her back—not to give up the hammock, but to show off a new funny trick she had learned.
Eventually, as the sun started to lower and Lyly’s energy faded, she curled up beside her mother on the grass and leaned her little head on Mom’s shoulder. The hammock was forgotten for now, replaced by the quiet comfort of togetherness.
Sometimes, the nap doesn’t happen in the hammock. Sometimes, it happens in the warm presence of the one who loves you most.
