It was dinnertime in the treetop village, and Mama Monkey had just finished making Lyly’s favorite dish: banana leaf wraps filled with mashed sweet potatoes and honey-roasted nuts. The aroma drifted through the trees, calling the little monkeys home.
But not Lyly.
“Lyly, dinner’s ready!” Mama called.
Lyly peeked into the kitchen, sniffed the air, and frowned. “I’m not hungry,” she mumbled, turning away.
Mama Monkey blinked. “Not hungry? You love this dish!”
Lyly shook her head. “I don’t want it today.”
Puzzled but gentle, Mama Monkey didn’t press. Instead, she watched as Lyly quietly climbed outside to sit alone on a low branch. Something wasn’t right.
Later that evening, Mama brought Lyly a warm cup of coconut milk and sat beside her.
“Sweetheart,” she said softly, “Did something happen today?”
Lyly hesitated, her little tail curling nervously. “At school, the other monkeys laughed at my lunch. They said my food looked weird and called it ‘mud wraps.’ I was so embarrassed, Mama.”
Mama Monkey’s heart sank. “Oh, Lyly. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Lyly whispered. “But today I wished I had a sandwich like everyone else.”
Mama hugged her gently. “I understand, Lyly. But our food is special—it’s made with love, tradition, and flavor that comes from our roots. Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
The next day, Mama and Lyly made a new lunch together: mini banana wraps, shaped like hearts, with bright mango slices on the side. Lyly beamed with pride as she opened her lunchbox at school. Some classmates were curious and even asked to try a bite.
“This is delicious!” one of them said. “Can your mom teach mine?”
That night, Lyly came home smiling. “Mama, I want your sweet potato wraps again tomorrow.”
Mama smiled back. “With extra honey-roasted nuts?”
Lyly giggled. “Yes, please!”
