Bibi, a little monkey with sparkling eyes and a fluffy golden-brown coat, loved having her own special space. She had a favorite spot on the big wooden swing that hung from the tree outside the family’s house. Every day, she climbed up, curled her tail around the rope, and gently rocked back and forth while munching on fruit or humming to herself. That swing was more than just a toy—it was her place of comfort, where she felt like the world was hers.
But lately, something new had been happening. A baby monkey, much younger than her, had joined the family. The baby was still small, playful, and very curious. She followed Bibi everywhere, copying her actions, tugging at her tail, and wanting to sit wherever Bibi sat. At first, Bibi didn’t mind. She thought it was cute. But as the days passed, Bibi started feeling like the baby was taking too much of her space.
One sunny afternoon, the swing swayed gently in the warm breeze. Bibi hopped onto it with a ripe banana in her hand, ready to enjoy her peaceful moment. Just as she settled in, the baby toddled over, making tiny squeaky sounds of excitement. The baby clambered up the rope, her little hands struggling but determined. She wanted to sit right next to Bibi.
“No, no!” Bibi squeaked, spreading her arms wide to block the baby. “This is my swing! My spot!”
The baby tilted her head, confused. She reached out anyway, trying to pull herself up beside Bibi. But Bibi wouldn’t allow it. She pushed the baby’s hand gently away and turned her body so there was no room left on the swing.
The baby made a sad little cry. She plopped down on the ground, pouting, and picked up a leaf to chew on. From a distance, their dad, CUTIS, who was watching the two, sighed. He knew Bibi was struggling with this new role of being an older sister.
“Bibi,” CUTIS called softly, walking closer, “why won’t you let the baby sit with you?”
Bibi looked away. “Because she always wants what I have. This is my swing! I don’t want to share it.”
CUTIS knelt down beside her. “I know it’s your favorite spot. But the baby just wants to be close to you. She looks up to you, Bibi. You’re her big sister.”
Bibi frowned. She didn’t like the idea of losing her special space, even if it was to her baby sister. “But if she sits here, I won’t have room to swing properly. She’ll wiggle too much and make it not fun.”
The baby, still sitting on the ground, watched with wide, teary eyes. She picked up a small stick and began drawing lines in the dirt, waiting quietly. CUTIS noticed the sadness in her expression and gently stroked her head.
“Bibi,” he said patiently, “sometimes being the big sister means making space in your world for someone smaller. It doesn’t mean losing your spot forever. It means learning to share so you can both be happy.”
But Bibi crossed her arms stubbornly. She didn’t want to hear it.
Later that day, when the family gathered for fruit time, Bibi was still sulking. She sat high up on a branch, peeling her banana slowly, while the baby tried to climb up after her. The baby slipped a little and squealed, and CUTIS rushed to help. Bibi only watched, still upset.
As the evening came, something unexpected happened. The swing that Bibi loved so much started creaking loudly. One of the ropes had begun to fray. When Bibi hopped on again, the swing wobbled dangerously. She gasped and jumped off just in time. The baby, who had been watching, clapped her little hands as if she thought it was part of a game.
CUTIS came over quickly to check. “This swing needs fixing. Bibi, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Bibi’s heart sank. Without the swing, she didn’t know what to do. That was her favorite thing in the world. She sat glumly on the ground. To her surprise, the baby toddled over and offered her a small piece of fruit—something the baby usually guarded closely for herself.
Bibi blinked. The baby was smiling, her eyes shining with pure kindness. For the first time, Bibi realized that maybe the baby wasn’t trying to steal her spot. Maybe she just wanted to be close, to share and play together.
The next day, CUTIS repaired the swing with stronger ropes. When it was ready, Bibi ran to climb on, but she paused. She looked at the baby, who was staring longingly at the swing. Bibi remembered how sad she looked the day before, sitting alone on the ground.
Slowly, Bibi patted the empty space beside her. “Okay… come on, baby. You can sit with me. But you have to hold on tight and not wiggle too much!”
The baby squealed with joy, scrambling up onto the swing. She clung to Bibi’s arm as the swing began to move back and forth. At first, Bibi felt uneasy—her space was smaller, and the baby leaned on her. But then something magical happened. The baby giggled, a sound so pure and full of happiness that Bibi couldn’t help but smile too.
They rocked together, back and forth, the baby laughing, Bibi chuckling softly. For the first time, the swing felt even better than before—not just because of the motion, but because of the warmth of sharing it.
CUTIS, watching from nearby, smiled with pride. He knew Bibi had learned an important lesson. Sometimes, love meant letting go of a little bit of space to make room for someone who needed it more.
From that day on, Bibi didn’t always let the baby sit with her—she still needed her alone time sometimes—but she no longer refused completely. She learned to balance her own needs with the joy of being a big sister. And the baby? She adored Bibi even more, following her with admiration and affection wherever she went.
Their bond grew stronger day by day. The swing became a symbol of sharing, laughter, and love. Whenever the ropes creaked gently in the breeze, it carried the sound of two sisters enjoying life together—one learning patience and kindness, the other feeling safe and loved.
Bibi realized that her world hadn’t gotten smaller when the baby arrived. In fact, it had grown bigger, fuller, and brighter.
And every evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the sky with orange and pink, the two monkeys swung side by side, their giggles echoing through the trees.
