It was a chilly afternoon, and the sweet aroma of baked sweet potatoes filled the air around the little outdoor kitchen. Monkey Lyly had been waiting all morning, watching closely as Mom prepared the fire and carefully placed the sweet potatoes into the hot ashes. The scent was irresistible, and Lyly’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
But patience was never Lyly’s strongest trait.
As soon as the fire was burning and the potatoes were tucked inside, Lyly started pacing back and forth. Her little hands reached out toward the fire pit, and she let out soft grunts and chatter, clearly saying, “Hurry up!” Every few minutes, she would peek at the ashes, hoping that the golden treats were ready. But Mom just smiled and gently told her, “Not yet, Lyly. You have to wait.”
Lyly didn’t want to wait. She stomped her feet, climbed up on the nearby bench, and even tried to sneak a peek under the cover of hot coals. When Mom wasn’t looking, she poked at the edge of the pit with a stick, trying to pull one of the sweet potatoes out early. But it was too hot — and far from ready. Her little plan didn’t work.
Frustrated, Lyly crossed her arms and sat down with a dramatic sigh. She looked up at Mom with the saddest, hungriest eyes she could manage. It was her way of saying, “I’m starving!”
Finally, after what felt like forever to Lyly, Mom pulled the sweet potatoes from the fire. The steam rose as she peeled one open, revealing the soft, golden-orange center. Lyly’s face lit up with pure joy. She eagerly took her first bite and let out a happy squeal. All the waiting suddenly felt worth it.
Even though she was impatient, Lyly learned that sometimes the best things take time. And for her, nothing beat the sweet, warm taste of freshly baked sweet potatoes shared with Mom.
