It was a long day of running, playing, and exploring for little Monkey Lyly. She had followed her mom around the yard, climbed trees, and even tried to mimic some of her mother’s chores. As the afternoon sun began to set, the excitement finally caught up to her. Lyly curled up on the floor by the door—bare, cool, and hard—and drifted off to sleep, her tiny arms wrapped around her favorite piece of cloth.
Hours later, her mother came looking for her. She called softly, expecting to find Lyly napping in her cozy basket or up in the hammock, where she usually dozed. But when she opened the door and saw her little one lying directly on the cold floor, curled up without a blanket, her heart sank.
She rushed over and gently scooped Lyly into her arms, holding her close. The sight of her daughter asleep on such an uncomfortable surface brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t just the floor—it was the feeling that maybe she had been too busy or too distracted to notice how tired Lyly had been. A mother’s guilt can be so strong, even over the smallest moments.
Lyly stirred slightly in her mother’s embrace but didn’t wake. Her mother whispered softly, stroking her fur and rocking her gently. She wrapped Lyly in a soft towel and brought her to her usual resting place, making sure she was warm and safe.
Watching her sleep peacefully now, her mother promised herself she would always notice the little things—when Lyly was getting sleepy, when she needed rest, or when she just wanted to be close. That moment reminded her that the bond between a mother and her baby isn’t just about the big milestones—it’s found in everyday tenderness, in checking in, in holding them close when they can’t ask.
Monkey Lyly was safe now, sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms, surrounded by love.
