The morning sun was rising slowly over the edge of the forest, painting the riverbank in warm golden light. Birds chirped overhead, and the soft rustling of leaves mixed with the sound of the flowing water. On this quiet riverbank, a group of tiny crabs scuttled happily back and forth. They had worked hard all morning, gathering little bits of food—small grains, seeds, and even pieces of fruit that had fallen from the trees. Each crab carried something precious, and together they stacked it in a neat little pile.
The crabs were proud. This food would keep their families fed, and they felt safe knowing they had worked together to build their supply.
But just beyond the trees, a pair of wide, curious eyes peeked out. It was Bibi, the baby monkey. He was always looking for something exciting, always ready to explore. His tiny stomach rumbled as he licked his lips. Breakfast time had come, and he hadn’t yet eaten.
At first, Bibi thought about climbing higher in the trees to look for bananas or figs. But as he climbed down near the water’s edge, he spotted the shimmering pile of food the crabs had made.
His eyes grew round.
“Ohh… food!” he whispered to himself.
He didn’t think about where it came from or who it belonged to—he only thought about how tasty it looked.
Bibi hopped closer, his little tail swishing with excitement. The crabs stopped their busy movements and froze. Their tiny eyes poked out from their shells, watching the furry figure approach. They knew who Bibi was. The monkey babies were mischievous, and though they meant no harm, they didn’t understand how hard the crabs worked.
One brave crab waved its claw and shouted, “Hey! That’s ours!”
But Bibi, too small to understand their words, giggled and reached out his tiny hands. He scooped up a handful of the food and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Yum, yum!” he said happily, crumbs sticking to his cheeks.
The crabs gasped. “Oh no, the baby monkey has taken the little crabs’ food!” they cried together.
Some of them tried to block him, raising their claws like tiny shields. Others scuttled quickly to hide the rest of the food in their burrows. But Bibi was quicker. He giggled and grabbed more, eating happily as though it was a fun game.
The leader of the crabs, an older and wiser one named Kra, stepped forward.
“Stop, little monkey! That’s not yours!” Kra shouted, waving both claws in frustration.
But Bibi only tilted his head and laughed. He thought the crabs were playing with him. He clapped his hands and scooped up another handful, munching noisily.
By now, the crabs were very upset. Their hard work was disappearing bite by bite. Some of them whispered angrily, “How unfair! We worked all morning!” Others sighed, “What will our families eat now?”
Just then, a gentle voice called from the trees.
“Bibi! What are you doing down there?”
It was Mama Monkey. She had been searching for her little one, and now she saw what had happened. She hurried down the tree trunk, her face full of concern.
Bibi froze. He looked at Mama with big, innocent eyes, crumbs still stuck to his fur. “Mama… food!” he said, showing her the pile.
Mama Monkey frowned gently. She understood right away. She bowed her head toward the crabs and said, “I am so sorry. Bibi did not mean to be unkind. He’s still learning.”
The crabs gathered around, still upset but listening. Kra the leader spoke, “We worked hard to gather this food. If the little one takes it all, we will have nothing left.”
Mama Monkey nodded. “You are right. Bibi, listen to me carefully,” she said, kneeling down to her son. “This food does not belong to you. The crabs worked hard to gather it, just like we gather fruit from the trees. Taking what isn’t yours makes others sad.”
Bibi’s ears drooped. He didn’t want to make anyone sad. He thought it was just a game. He glanced at the crabs, who stared back with their tiny eyes and serious little faces. For the first time, Bibi realized they weren’t playing—they were hurt.
Slowly, he lowered the handful of food he was holding and placed it back onto the pile. “Sowwy,” he mumbled, his baby voice soft.
The crabs looked at each other. Some still seemed cross, but Kra gave a little nod. “An apology is a good start. But he must learn not to do this again.”
Mama Monkey smiled. “I promise he will learn. In fact…” She plucked a ripe banana from the tree above and handed it to Bibi. “Here, this is for you. Our food comes from the forest. The crabs’ food is theirs.”
Bibi peeled the banana and took a bite. It was sweet and soft, and it filled his tummy quickly. He looked at the crabs again. “I no take… yours,” he said slowly, trying to make sure they understood.
The crabs relaxed a little. Some even clapped their claws together in relief. Kra nodded firmly. “Good. If you want to play with us, you may, but food is sacred. It is life.”
From that day on, Bibi learned something new. Whenever he saw the crabs gathering food, he watched with curiosity but never touched. Sometimes, instead, he would drop little bits of fruit near their burrows as a gift. The crabs began to see him not as a thief but as a friend.
And so, what began with a mistake became a lesson. The little monkey grew kinder and wiser, and the crabs felt safer knowing their hard work was respected.
One evening, as the sun set over the river, the crabs and Bibi played near the water together. The crabs scuttled in patterns, making funny shapes, while Bibi clapped and danced along. Mama Monkey watched from the tree, proud of her son.
She whispered to herself, “Sometimes, little mistakes help us grow the most.”
The river sparkled in the fading light, the crabs kept their food safe, and Bibi’s belly was full of bananas—not stolen treasures. Everyone was happy, and the forest was peaceful once more.
