When the afternoon sun filtered softly through the trees, Monkey Lyly was already up to her usual curious antics. Always the little explorer, Lyly wandered a bit farther than usual into the garden while her mother was busy sweeping the porch. That’s when she spotted it—a round, colorful fruit dangling temptingly from a low-hanging branch. Its bright purple skin sparkled in the light, and to Lyly’s eyes, it looked delicious.
Without a second thought, she reached up, plucked the fruit, and took a small bite. The taste was strange—sweet at first, then slightly bitter—but Lyly, stubborn and adventurous as ever, took another bite anyway.
Meanwhile, back on the porch, her mother called out, “Lyly, where are you?” When she didn’t get an answer, she knew something was up. She rushed into the garden, scanning the bushes until she saw Lyly crouched under the tree, munching on something unfamiliar.
“Lyly! What are you eating?” she cried, rushing over. As soon as she saw the half-eaten fruit, her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t recognize it either—and that was the problem. In the jungle, not every colorful fruit is safe.
She gently took the fruit from Lyly’s hand and scooped her up, checking her mouth and face. “Are you feeling okay, sweetie?” she asked with growing concern. Lyly blinked at her, slightly confused, but nodded.
Just to be safe, they went straight to their neighbor—a wise older monkey who knew everything about jungle plants. He examined the fruit and gave a small laugh of relief. “It’s harmless,” he said. “Just not very tasty. She might get a funny tummy later, though.”
Lyly’s mom sighed, hugging her tightly. “You scared me, little one.”
Lyly looked up sheepishly and whispered, “Sorry, Mama.” From then on, whenever she saw a strange fruit, she always asked first.
Lesson learned… mostly.
