Bibi Monkey knew exactly what she wanted the moment her feet touched the ground.
She froze.
The earth beneath her was cool and unfamiliar, dotted with tiny pebbles and dry leaves that crinkled when she shifted her weight. Bibi looked down at it, then up again, her round eyes wide with clear disappointment. Her little hands hovered in the air as if she were waiting for something—someone—to fix this obvious mistake.
She did not belong down here.
Bibi lifted one foot, then the other, testing the ground like it might suddenly change its mind and become softer. It didn’t. She frowned, lips pursed, tail flicking behind her in quiet annoyance. Sitting on the ground was not part of her plan for the day.
She turned her head and spotted him.
Dad.
He stood just a short distance away, calm and familiar, his presence a source of instant comfort. Bibi’s face brightened, and without hesitation, she stretched both arms toward him, fingers opening and closing urgently.
“Up,” her body language clearly said. “Right now.”
Dad smiled, already understanding. “You want me to carry you?” he asked softly.
Bibi answered with a tiny, impatient squeak.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. The ground felt too big, too cold, too unpredictable. Being held was warm. Safe. Elevated. When Dad carried her, the world made more sense.
Dad crouched slightly, extending his arms.
Bibi wasted no time.
She waddled forward quickly, almost tripping in her hurry, and climbed into his embrace. The moment his arms wrapped around her, she relaxed completely. Her shoulders dropped. Her grip softened. She pressed her cheek against his chest and let out a quiet, satisfied sound.
Much better.
From up here, everything looked different. Higher. Safer. The ground was no longer a problem—it was something happening far below, not something she had to deal with personally.
Dad adjusted his hold, supporting her weight comfortably. Bibi curled into him naturally, one arm draped over his shoulder, the other gripping his shirt. Her legs wrapped loosely around his side, tail hanging relaxed behind her.
She glanced down again, just to check.
Yes. Still on the ground.
She sniffed and turned her face away, burying it into Dad’s shoulder. She had made the right decision.
They started walking slowly. Bibi swayed gently with each step, her body moving in rhythm with Dad’s stride. The motion was soothing. She blinked slowly, eyes half-closed, enjoying the steady pace and familiar warmth.
Occasionally, she peeked out, curious about her surroundings. From this height, she could see more—shadows, movement, little details she usually missed. But every time she felt the urge to squirm or reach, Dad’s steady arms reminded her she was secure.
She trusted him completely.
After a while, Dad stopped and gently tried to lower her again. “What about sitting here for a bit?” he suggested, pointing to a shaded spot.
Bibi immediately stiffened.
No.
She clung tighter, fingers digging into his shirt, legs tightening around his side. Her face scrunched up into a look of pure refusal. She let out a small, dramatic sound—half protest, half plea.
Dad laughed quietly. “You really don’t want to sit on the ground, huh?”
Bibi shook her head once, firmly, as if to say absolutely not. The ground had already been evaluated and rejected. There was no need to revisit the decision.
Dad sighed, amused. “Alright, alright.”
He shifted her back into a comfortable position, and Bibi relaxed again instantly. Her protest melted away as if it had never existed. She rested her head against him, satisfied with the outcome.
Sometimes, being small meant the world felt too rough. Too cold. Too uncertain. The ground was full of textures and surprises that Bibi wasn’t always ready for. In Dad’s arms, though, everything felt filtered—softened by trust and familiarity.
As they continued walking, Bibi grew quieter. Her earlier determination gave way to calm. She played idly with the fabric of Dad’s shirt, rubbing it between her fingers, lost in thought. Every now and then, she glanced up at his face, just to make sure he was still there.
He always was.
They passed by familiar places, and Bibi pointed lazily at things that caught her interest—a leaf, a shadow, a sound in the distance. Dad responded each time, talking softly, explaining things she couldn’t yet understand but enjoyed hearing anyway.
The bond between them was wordless and strong.
Eventually, Dad sat down with Bibi still in his arms. He didn’t try to put her on the ground this time. He knew better. Bibi shifted slightly, settling in more comfortably, her body molding naturally to his.
She sighed.
A deep, content sigh that came from feeling exactly where she wanted to be.
Her eyes drooped as the world slowed around her. The ground no longer mattered. Whether it was cold or hard or unfamiliar didn’t concern her now. Dad’s arms were warm. His presence steady. His heartbeat familiar and reassuring.
That was enough.
Bibi Monkey didn’t want to sit on the ground today.
She wanted to be carried.
And in Dad’s arms, she had everything she needed—comfort, safety, and the quiet certainty that no matter how big the world felt beneath her feet, she would never have to face it alone. 🐒💞
