The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting soft light into the room. Birds chirped outside, announcing the start of a new day. But Monkey Lyly had no interest in waking up. Curled up in her cozy blanket, she snored softly, one arm dangling lazily over the side of her little bed.
The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting soft light into the room. Birds chirped outside, announcing the start of a new day. But Monkey Lyly had no interest in waking up. Curled up in her cozy blanket, she snored softly, one arm dangling lazily over the side of her little bed.
Her mother entered the room with a cheerful voice. “Lyly, it’s morning! Time to get up!” she said, gently shaking her shoulder. Lyly barely stirred. Instead, she stretched, yawned widely, and—before her mom could say another word—rolled right back into her blanket, slipping deeper into sleep.
Her mom tried again, this time pulling the blanket halfway down. “Come on, Lyly, you can’t sleep all day!” she teased. But Lyly only mumbled something sleepy and pulled the pillow over her head. It was as if she had mastered the art of pretending not to hear.
Minutes ticked by, and her mom’s patience turned to amusement. She tickled Lyly’s feet, hoping to get a giggle. For a moment, Lyly did laugh—but then she sighed, snuggled even deeper, and drifted off once more. It seemed no trick could outmatch her determination to sleep.
Finally, her mom leaned down, kissing her on the forehead. “Alright, little one,” she whispered with a smile, “I’ll let you dream a little longer.”
Lyly smiled faintly in her sleep, as if she had heard and felt comforted by her mother’s gentle words. For her, the morning could wait—warmth, dreams, and the safety of her mother nearby were all she needed.
And so, while the world outside bustled awake, Monkey Lyly remained in her dreamy kingdom, proving once again that sometimes the sweetest moments are found in the quiet battle between a sleepy child and the rising sun.
Her mother entered the room with a cheerful voice. “Lyly, it’s morning! Time to get up!” she said, gently shaking her shoulder. Lyly barely stirred. Instead, she stretched, yawned widely, and—before her mom could say another word—rolled right back into her blanket, slipping deeper into sleep.
Her mom tried again, this time pulling the blanket halfway down. “Come on, Lyly, you can’t sleep all day!” she teased. But Lyly only mumbled something sleepy and pulled the pillow over her head. It was as if she had mastered the art of pretending not to hear.
Minutes ticked by, and her mom’s patience turned to amusement. She tickled Lyly’s feet, hoping to get a giggle. For a moment, Lyly did laugh—but then she sighed, snuggled even deeper, and drifted off once more. It seemed no trick could outmatch her determination to sleep.
Finally, her mom leaned down, kissing her on the forehead. “Alright, little one,” she whispered with a smile, “I’ll let you dream a little longer.”
Lyly smiled faintly in her sleep, as if she had heard and felt comforted by her mother’s gentle words. For her, the morning could wait—warmth, dreams, and the safety of her mother nearby were all she needed.
And so, while the world outside bustled awake, Monkey Lyly remained in her dreamy kingdom, proving once again that sometimes the sweetest moments are found in the quiet battle between a sleepy child and the rising sun.
