Morning sunlight slipped through the leaves above the little wooden house, casting warm golden patches across the yard. It was a peaceful day—birds chirping, a soft breeze drifting, and the smell of ripe fruit from the garden. But inside the house, there was a tiny bit of worry.
Baby monkey Lino, usually the most energetic little troublemaker in the family, was sitting quietly in the corner. His tail curled around his legs, and his big round eyes blinked slowly. Normally, by this time of day, he would be squeaking, jumping, climbing, or stealing someone’s snack. But today? He wasn’t doing any of that.
Thida, who took care of Lino like her own child, noticed immediately. She set down the basket of bananas she was carrying and walked over.
“Lino? What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
The little monkey lifted his head and gave a tiny “eeh…” but didn’t move. He rubbed his tummy and made a sad little face.
Thida’s eyebrows pulled together.
“Maybe he ate something wrong?” she wondered out loud.
It wouldn’t be the first time. Lino was curious about everything. If it looked tasty, smelled tasty, or even just looked interesting, he would try to put it in his mouth.
Earlier that morning, while everyone was cleaning the yard, Lino had been wandering around. He’d watched the chickens scratching the dirt, played with a leaf, poked a slipper, and then—when no one was looking—he discovered something colorful under a tree. A tiny berry, bright red and shiny. To Lino, that meant one thing: snack.
He had popped it into his mouth before Thida even noticed he had wandered off.
Now, sitting on the floor with his hands on his belly, Lino clearly regretted that decision.
Thida scooped him up gently. His body melted into her arms—another unusual thing, because Lino normally wriggled like a noodle when anyone tried to hold him.
“You poor baby,” she murmured. “Let’s check you.”
She touched his forehead. A little warm, but not too hot. She gently rubbed his tummy. It gurgled softly. Lino made a tiny squeak and buried his face in her shirt.
Thida knew she had to figure out what had happened. So she carried him outside where the rest of the family was sweeping leaves.
“Look at Lino,” she said. “He’s not feeling well.”
Her father stopped sweeping and crouched down. “Hmm… maybe he ate something wrong?”
Her little brother Rithy came running over. “What did he eat? Lino! Did you steal my snacks again?” He put his hands on his hips dramatically.
The baby monkey didn’t respond. He just leaned into Thida, looking very small and very pitiful.
Rithy knelt next to him. “It’s okay, little guy. We’ll help you.”
The whole family gathered to think. Thida placed Lino on her lap while the others tried to remember what he might have eaten.
“Banana?”
“No, he only had a little.”
“Mango?”
“No, the ripe ones aren’t even down from the tree yet.”
“Rice?”
“He barely touched breakfast.”
Then Rithy snapped his fingers. “Wait! I saw him near the old tree earlier! Maybe he picked something from the ground?”
That made everyone pause.
Thida carried Lino over to the tree to check. Sure enough, under the branches were scattered little red berries that had fallen overnight.
“Oh no,” Thida whispered. “These aren’t good for him.”
They weren’t dangerous, but definitely not good for a tiny monkey’s stomach. A single berry could make him uncomfortable.
At least the mystery was solved.
Thida took Lino back inside and prepared warm water for him. She knew a little warmth would help his tummy settle. She sat down with him on her lap and slowly let him sip a little at a time.
Lino clung to her shirt with his tiny fingers. His tired eyes blinked, and he let out a soft sigh. It was the most peaceful Thida had seen him in days.
“You scared me, baby,” she whispered. “You can’t just eat everything you see.”
Her mother appeared with a soft cloth and gently wiped Lino’s mouth. “He’ll be okay. He just needs rest.”
The little monkey curled up like a baby, tail around his body, head resting on Thida’s arm. She rubbed his back slowly, feeling him relax with every minute.
Rithy peeked in from the doorway. “Is he better?”
“Getting there,” Thida said with a smile. “Come sit quietly.”
Rithy tiptoed in and sat next to her. He reached out carefully and stroked Lino’s tiny hand.
“He’s cute when he’s quiet,” Rithy whispered.
Thida giggled softly. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
After a little while, Lino started to feel better. His eyes opened fully, and he looked around the room. His expression was still sleepy, but no longer upset. He seemed curious again—but in a slow, gentle way.
When Thida put a peeled banana near him, he sniffed it. Instead of grabbing it wildly like he usually did, he took a small bite, slowly chewing.
“That’s a good sign,” her father said from the doorway.
Everyone watched him eat with relief.
But the funniest part came next.
Halfway through the banana, Lino stopped. He looked at his own belly. Then he looked at Thida. Then he let out a small “eeeh…” as if trying to say:
“Okay… maybe I did eat something wrong.”
The whole family burst into gentle laughter.
Even feeling better, Lino still wanted to be held, so Thida let him rest on her chest while she stroked his soft fur. He closed his eyes again, but this time not from discomfort—just peaceful sleepiness.
By afternoon, Lino had recovered enough to walk around. He took slow, careful steps at first, making sure his tummy was okay. Then he climbed onto the sofa. Then onto Rithy’s shoulder. Then onto the doorframe.
“See! He’s back to normal!” Rithy shouted happily.
Lino squeaked loudly, almost proudly.
From the corner, Thida raised her eyebrow. “Normal? If he climbs the curtains again, you’re responsible.”
Lino stopped halfway up the doorway, froze, and slowly climbed back down as if he understood.
They all laughed again.
Later that evening, Thida sat with Lino in the yard as the sky turned orange. He was feeling much better now, grooming her hair with his tiny fingers—a sign of affection and apology.
“You need to learn,” she told him gently. “Not every fruit is for eating.”
Lino blinked at her, then rested his head on her shoulder.
Maybe he didn’t understand every word, but he felt the love, the warmth, and the safety. And maybe, just maybe, he realized he shouldn’t taste everything he found on the ground.
But knowing Lino… it probably wouldn’t stop him from trying again someday.
Thida kissed the top of his head.
“Well,” she whispered, “at least today ended safely.”
And with that, the little monkey wrapped his arms around her neck, finally comfortable, finally calm.
A happy ending to a day that started with one tiny question:
Maybe he ate something wrong?
