It was a sunny afternoon, and Monkey Lyly had been unusually quiet. Normally, she bounced around the living room, chattering and tugging at her toys. But today, her mother noticed the house was too still. “Lyly?” she called, peeking into the bedroom, then the kitchen. No sign of her little monkey anywhere.
Her mother grew worried. Where could she have gone? Just as she stepped outside, she heard faint giggles coming from next door. Curious, she followed the sound—and there was Lyly, sitting happily in the neighbor’s yard! Surrounded by colorful toys and fascinated by things that weren’t hers, Lyly was completely absorbed. She stacked blocks, tugged at a toy car, and even flipped through a picture book with wide-eyed wonder, as if she had discovered a whole new world.
“Lyly!” her mother called out, half relieved and half bewildered. But Lyly didn’t even look up. She was too engrossed in play, hopping from one toy to the next while the neighbor chuckled at her excitement.
Her mother scratched her head, puzzled. At home, Lyly had plenty of toys—soft dolls, shiny balls, even puzzles. Yet here she was, acting as though the neighbor’s old blocks and worn-out cars were the greatest treasures on earth.
“Why is my little one ignoring everything at home, only to sneak away and play here?” her mother muttered, smiling despite her confusion.
Finally, when the sun began to set, Lyly’s mother gently carried her back. Lyly pouted, glancing longingly at the neighbor’s yard, as if promising herself she’d be back tomorrow.
That night, her mother watched Lyly fall asleep with a toy clutched in her tiny hand, still smiling from her adventure. Though confused, she couldn’t help but laugh—because maybe, to Lyly, the fun wasn’t about the toys themselves but the joy of discovering something new.
