Monkey Lyly is usually a bundle of energy—swinging from chairs, chasing after toys, and squeaking happily whenever she spots her favorite snacks. But today was different. Today, she sat right outside the closed bedroom door, her little face pressed against it, looking utterly heartbroken. Her mother had locked the door for a short while, and for Lyly, it felt like the end of the world.
At first, Lyly tried to be patient. She sat cross-legged, arms folded across her tiny chest, her lips pushed into the biggest pout imaginable. Every now and then, she let out a dramatic sigh, as if hoping her mother would hear her misery and rush to open the door. When that didn’t work, she gently knocked, making soft whimpering sounds, whispering as if to say, “Are you really going to leave me out here?”
Minutes passed, and Lyly’s sulking grew more theatrical. She sprawled out on the floor like a defeated little monkey, peeking under the crack of the door with her big curious eyes. She squeaked softly, her tiny fingers wiggling as if they might magically open the lock. It was both heartbreaking and adorable at the same time.
When she realized the door was staying shut, she turned to sulking in full force. She sat with her back against the wall, arms crossed tight, and refused to look at anyone who tried to cheer her up. Her body language said it all: “I’m not mad, I’m just… deeply disappointed.”
Finally, the door opened. Lyly’s ears perked, her pout disappeared, and in a split second she bounded inside with a squeal of pure joy. All that sulking vanished as if it had never existed. She clung to her mother, wrapping her arms around her as if to say, “Don’t ever lock me out again!”
For Monkey Lyly, being apart for even a little while was just too much to bear. And though her sulking was dramatic, it was also a sweet reminder of how deeply she loved being by her mother’s side. ❤️🐒
