Monkey Lyly had discovered a new game that afternoon, and nothing in the world could pull her away from it. With her toys scattered across the floor and a long piece of string she had claimed as her treasure, she was completely absorbed in her imaginary adventure. She bounced, twirled, and even somersaulted, laughing to herself as she pretended to chase invisible creatures.
From the kitchen, her mother’s voice rang out, “Lyly! Come here, it’s time to clean up!”
But Lyly, eyes wide with concentration, acted as though she hadn’t heard a thing. She crouched low, dragging the string like it was prey, then pounced with dramatic flair. Her mother called again, louder this time, but Lyly only flicked her ears slightly before leaping onto the couch. Clearly, her game was far too important to be interrupted.
She whispered to herself, “If I don’t move, she won’t see me. I’m invisible!” She giggled, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs in the air. Her mother peeked into the room, shaking her head with a smile. “Lyly, I know you hear me.”
Still, Lyly kept her performance going, tiptoeing behind a chair like a secret agent, peeking out dramatically as if she were on a grand mission. She held back her laughter, pretending to be serious about her “top secret play.”
Finally, her mother clapped her hands and said, “Alright, playtime is over for now.” Lyly froze, knowing she had been caught. With a sheepish grin, she hopped down from her hiding spot and trotted over, as if nothing had happened.
Her mother sighed but couldn’t stay upset—Lyly’s playful spirit was too infectious. She gave her a gentle pat and said, “Next time, don’t pretend you can’t hear me.” Lyly giggled and nodded, but her sparkling eyes gave her away. She was already planning her next “pretend not to hear” game.
Because for Monkey Lyly, playtime always comes first.
