It was a bright afternoon, and Monkey Lyly had just finished playing with her favorite ball outside. Her fur was a little dusty, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her tail swayed with excitement. She was ready to go inside for a snack and maybe a cuddle from Mom. But as she skipped toward the gate and reached her little hand out—click! It didn’t open.
Lyly blinked, pulled again, and looked around.
“Mom?” she called out softly.
She tugged at the gate once more, shaking it a little this time. It rattled but wouldn’t budge. Her happy mood began to shift. “Mom… where are you?” she said again, louder now, peeking through the bars of the gate to see if anyone was home. The house was quiet. No sound of pots clanging in the kitchen, no footsteps, not even the soft hum of her mother singing.
Her face slowly turned from confusion to worry.
She paced a few small circles, then tried to climb the gate, only to slide back down with a pout. “Mom!” she cried again, her voice now filled with desperation. She pressed her little face between the bars, scanning every window and door she could see.
Just then, a neighbor peeked over the fence. “Lyly? What’s wrong?” the lady asked kindly.
“The gate is locked… I can’t go inside,” Lyly replied, her voice trembling.
The kind neighbor stayed with her, trying to comfort her while calling Lyly’s mom on the phone. Moments later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the alley. Mom came rushing, holding a bag of groceries and looking flustered. “Oh no! Lyly, I’m so sorry! I thought I’d be back before you finished playing!”
Lyly’s eyes welled up with tears, not from anger but from the relief of seeing her mom. She clung to her tightly as the gate finally opened.
That day, Lyly learned how deeply she loved her mom—and Mom promised to never forget to leave the gate open again.
