In the quiet corner of the forest, morning sunlight filtered gently through the tall leaves, warming the branches where a small family of monkeys rested. The mother monkey, Lira, had just returned from gathering fruit when she spotted her little one, Timo, tumbling in the dirt with great enthusiasm. His tiny fur, once soft and bright, was now covered in dust, leaves, and little specks of mud from his adventurous morning play.
Lira paused, observing him with a mixture of affection and resignation. Timo looked up proudly, clutching a crumpled leaf as if it were a treasure. But when he bounced toward her, a cloud of dust puffed up around him. That was the final sign. Lira let out a soft chattering sound and gently scooped him up before he could scamper away again.
With practiced ease, she carried him toward the small stream hidden behind the cluster of mossy rocks. Timo squeaked in surprise, wriggling playfully in her grip, but Lira held him firmly. She knew her child well—if she let him go now, he would sprint straight back into the mud.
At the water’s edge, Lira dipped her hand into the cool stream, then began grooming Timo’s fur with careful strokes. The water shimmered under the sunlight, and the ripples reflected soft patterns across their faces. Timo gradually relaxed, leaning into her touch, his small hands clinging to her arm for comfort.
Bit by bit, the dirt washed away, revealing his fluffy fur once more. Lira paused occasionally to lick away stubborn patches, her movements gentle and full of patience. By the time she finished, Timo looked clean, refreshed, and just a little sleepy.
Wrapping her arms around him, Lira carried him back to their branch, proud of her now tidy little monkey—though she already suspected he would find new dirt before the day ended.
