In a quiet jungle village, Baby Monkey Mato was known for his playful spirit and boundless curiosity. Every day, he climbed, leapt, and explored every corner of the wooden hut where he lived with his troop. But one sunny afternoon, Mato’s adventure took a heartbreaking turn.
While his mother was gathering fruit nearby, Mato clambered up the low wooden table, trying to reach a shiny red fruit left there. His tiny hands grasped the edge as he stood on his tiptoes. He wobbled once, then again. Then—slip! His foot missed the edge, and with a soft cry, Mato tumbled down.
Thud!
He landed on the hard dirt floor below. For a moment, silence. Then a small, pitiful whimper escaped his lips. Mato held his little arm, eyes wide with pain and confusion. A few older monkeys rushed over, chirping in distress. His mother returned swiftly, scooping him up with trembling hands.
Mato’s big, watery eyes stared up at her, as if asking, “Why did it hurt?” She cradled him close, rocking gently, whispering soft monkey murmurs of comfort.
The fall had scared him more than hurt him, but for the rest of the day, Mato clung to his mother’s chest, no longer curious—just quietly healing.
