As soon as the aroma of freshly cooked noodles filled the air, Monkey Lyly’s eyes lit up like lanterns. She was sitting peacefully in her corner, nibbling on a piece of banana, when her mom sat down with a big, steaming bowl of noodles. Instantly, the banana lost all its charm.
Lyly tiptoed over, her tiny feet patting softly on the floor, eyes glued to the bowl like it was treasure. Her little nose twitched with every waft of the savory broth. She tilted her head and looked up at her mom with the biggest, roundest eyes—an expression that clearly said, “Can I have just one bite?”
Her mother chuckled, trying her best to eat while pretending not to notice Lyly’s intense gaze. But Lyly wasn’t giving up that easily. She plopped herself right next to her mom, sat up straight like a polite little monkey, and reached out a tiny finger toward the noodles.
When her mom finally offered a small noodle, Lyly squealed with joy. She slurped it in and did a happy dance on the spot. One noodle wasn’t enough though. Every bite her mom took after that had Lyly begging again, clapping her hands and smacking her lips with exaggerated drama.
Soon, she wasn’t just watching—she had practically taken over the bowl! Noodle strands clung to her cheeks, and soup dribbled down her chin, but Lyly didn’t care. Her happy munching sounds echoed through the room as if to say, “Wow… so yummy!”
By the time she was full, the once-neat bowl looked like a noodle crime scene. Lyly leaned back with a noodle mustache and a satisfied grin, while her mother just shook her head, laughing.
There’s something about the way Lyly eats—so expressive, so joyful—that turns even a simple bowl of noodles into a heartwarming moment.
