Lala had always been a playful little monkey—curious, cheerful, and constantly exploring her surroundings. From climbing trees to chasing butterflies in the backyard, she was a whirlwind of energy and mischief. But one rainy evening, something changed. Lala wasn’t jumping around like usual. She didn’t touch her banana slices, didn’t even glance at her favorite stuffed duck. Instead, she curled into a ball and clung tightly to a blanket in the corner of her little bed.
Mom instantly knew something was wrong.
At first, she thought Lala was just tired from all the excitement of the previous day. They had gone on a long walk around the farm, and Lala had spent hours jumping through the tall grass, laughing and squealing with joy. But this was different. Lala was quiet. Too quiet.
Mom gently touched Lala’s forehead. It was warmer than usual. Her nose was dry. Her eyes were droopy. Panic stirred in Mom’s heart, but she didn’t show it. Instead, she whispered soothing words, brushing Lala’s soft fur gently with her fingers.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama’s here.”
Mom didn’t waste time. She carefully picked Lala up, wrapped her in a warm towel, and carried her inside to their cozy living room. She turned on a small heater to keep the room warm, lit a lavender-scented candle, and placed Lala in a cushioned basket near her feet.
Then, Mom went to work.
She brewed a gentle ginger tea—not too strong—and let it cool just enough before pouring it into a tiny baby bottle. Lala didn’t want to drink at first, turning her face away weakly. But Mom was patient. She sang a lullaby, rubbed Lala’s tiny back, and finally, the baby monkey took a few small sips. That moment felt like a tiny victory.
The next few hours were crucial. Mom stayed by Lala’s side the entire night. She didn’t sleep. She kept checking Lala’s temperature, applying a cool cloth to her forehead when the fever rose and switching to warm compresses when she shivered. She gently massaged Lala’s arms and legs, making sure her little body stayed relaxed.
Outside, the rain fell in steady sheets, tapping against the windows. But inside, everything was calm and full of love.
By morning, Lala showed the first sign of improvement—she opened her eyes and gave Mom a sleepy, slow blink. Her tiny fingers reached out and clutched Mom’s sleeve. That was all the encouragement Mom needed to continue her mission with even more determination.
Over the next two days, Mom’s special care became the stuff of legend in their little home. She cooked soft porridge with mashed bananas and honey, which Lala began to nibble. She made warm baths with eucalyptus oil, and gently bathed Lala to keep her clean and relaxed. She played soft music and read picture books aloud—even though Lala couldn’t understand the words, the rhythm of Mom’s voice made her feel safe.
By the third day, Lala had enough strength to sit up on her own. She gave a weak smile and squeaked in delight when Mom brought over her stuffed duck. She even reached out and hugged it.
Mom couldn’t hold back tears of joy. “That’s my brave little girl,” she whispered, hugging Lala gently.
Word of Lala’s condition—and recovery—spread quickly among the other animals around the farm. Cutis, the clever goat who often shared meals with Lala, stopped by the window and bleated in concern. Mango, the old barn cat, curled up on the porch, as if standing guard. Even the noisy chickens seemed quieter that day, peeking into the house as if checking in.
Mom welcomed them all with quiet gratitude.
Once Lala regained her strength, Mom made sure she didn’t rush back into her usual wild activities. She created a “recovery play zone” right inside the living room. It had soft pillows, toys, picture books, and even a little swing. Lala spent her days recovering slowly—swinging gently, practicing standing, and giving the occasional giggle that warmed Mom’s heart.
Each morning, Mom made a special drink for Lala using a blend of fruits and herbs. She called it “Monkey Power Juice,” and Lala drank it happily. As the days went on, her energy returned like magic. Her fur shone again, her eyes sparkled, and her voice became loud and chatty once more.
One sunny afternoon, about a week after she had fallen ill, Lala did something surprising—she climbed up on the back of the couch, stood tall with arms wide, and shouted, “Wheeeee!” before launching herself into Mom’s arms.
Caught mid-air, Lala laughed joyfully, and Mom burst into laughter too. It was official—Lala was back to being her mischievous, energetic self.
Later that evening, Mom wrote a small note in her journal:
“Lala is so much better now. I was so scared, but love, warmth, and patience worked their magic. She’s stronger than ever—and I think I am, too.”
To celebrate her recovery, Mom threw a tiny party just for Lala. She decorated the backyard with colorful streamers made from leaves and ribbons. She prepared Lala’s favorite snacks: apple slices, banana cookies, and even a mini coconut pudding. Cutis, Mango, and even the chickens joined in. Lala wore a flower crown and danced around the yard, her little legs twirling as she shrieked with joy.
At one point, Lala climbed onto the picnic table and held up her duck toy like a trophy. “Mama!” she called, and pointed at herself. “Better!”
Mom clapped with pride and smiled. “Yes, baby. You’re much better now. Mama’s so proud of you.”
That night, as the stars blinked in the sky and the crickets sang lullabies, Lala snuggled into her bed with her duck in one arm and Mom holding her hand. She was peaceful, safe, and deeply loved.
And somewhere in her little monkey heart, she knew that no matter what happened—no matter how scary or sick she felt—Mom would always be there, with warm hands, kind words, and the most magical care in the world.
Because sometimes, love really is the best medicine.
