It was a sunny and peaceful afternoon at Thuy’s home, where the usual quiet harmony was occasionally interrupted by the playful mischief of Lala, the adorable yet hyperactive baby monkey. Lala had always been a bundle of energy, constantly running, jumping, and exploring every corner of the house. No object was too sacred, no shelf too high. But today, her curiosity was about to get her into a bit more trouble than usual.
The living room was freshly cleaned. A faint smell of jasmine floated through the open windows. On the center table stood Thuy’s most treasured possession—a tall, delicate lotus vase that once belonged to her grandmother. The porcelain was hand-painted, with soft pink lotus flowers blossoming against a pale blue background. Thuy had warned Lala many times, “Don’t touch the vase, Lala. It’s very special.” But those words, as always, went in one ear and out the other.
Lala, with her big sparkling eyes and cheeky grin, had been playing quietly with her stuffed toys. She tossed them in the air, rolled on the floor, and made funny sounds that echoed off the walls. But then, her eyes fell on the shiny vase. It stood there glowing in the sunlight, the petals on its surface seeming almost alive.
The temptation was too strong.
She tiptoed toward the table, her tiny feet barely making a sound. Her tail twitched with excitement as she climbed up the edge of the couch and then leapt lightly onto the table. The vase stood before her, tall and majestic.
“Ooooh!” Lala whispered in awe. She reached out a curious finger and gently poked it. The vase wobbled slightly, and she giggled. That was fun. She did it again.
This time, the vase rocked a bit harder.
Lala’s giggle grew louder.
And then—it happened.
With one playful swat of her tiny hand, the vase teetered, tottered, and then tipped over the edge. Time seemed to slow. Lala’s eyes widened in horror as the vase sailed through the air and crashed onto the tile floor with a sound that echoed like thunder through the house.
CRASH!
The lotus vase shattered into a hundred pieces.
Silence fell.
Lala froze, mouth open, eyes locked on the wreckage. Her mischievous heart sank into her belly. She looked left, looked right—was anyone coming?
Too late.
Thuy came running in from the kitchen, her face already forming a frown. “LALA!” she shouted when she saw the broken vase. Her eyes scanned the room, then settled on the little monkey crouching guiltily next to the mess.
“Lala… what did you do?!”
The baby monkey whimpered, shrinking into herself as Thuy approached. She didn’t mean to break it. She just wanted to see it up close. But now it was gone—forever.
Thuy dropped to her knees and gathered the broken pieces, her fingers trembling. Her face was a mix of sadness and frustration. “This was Grandma’s vase,” she murmured, not even speaking to Lala now, but to herself. “She gave it to me before she passed away…”
Lala’s heart broke a little. She didn’t know what “grandma” meant exactly, but she could feel Thuy’s sadness like a heavy cloud pressing on the room. She scooted closer and gently tugged on Thuy’s sleeve, letting out a soft “oooh ooooh” sound of apology. Her big round eyes pleaded for forgiveness.
But Thuy needed a moment. She stood up, quietly said, “Go to your room, Lala,” and turned away.
Lala dragged her feet all the way to her little sleeping corner, where her favorite blanket and toys waited. But she didn’t want to play. She wrapped herself in her blanket and stared at the wall, feeling tears prick her eyes. This was the worst kind of trouble. Not the kind where she got scolded for spilling water or tearing a pillow. This time, she had hurt Thuy’s feelings.
After a while, Thuy came into the room, her expression softer now. She sat next to Lala and took a deep breath.
“I know you didn’t mean it,” she said gently. “But some things… we can’t fix. That vase was special. When you break something like that, it’s not just about the object. It’s about the memory.”
Lala looked up and touched Thuy’s hand.
Thuy smiled, weakly but genuinely. “But I love you, you little troublemaker. Just—promise me you’ll try to be more careful?”
Lala nodded quickly, tail swishing, and gave Thuy a tight hug.
The next day, Thuy took Lala to the local craft market. “We may not be able to get Grandma’s vase back,” she said, “but maybe we can make something new together. A new memory.”
At the market, colorful ceramics lined every table. Bowls, cups, plates—and yes, vases. Lala’s eyes darted from one object to another, but this time she didn’t touch. She just pointed excitedly at a small white vase with painted sunflowers. Thuy bought it, and they even got some art supplies to decorate it themselves at home.
Back at the house, the two of them sat side by side, painting flowers and shapes onto the blank ceramic. Lala’s painting was messy—swirls of color that made no real sense—but it made Thuy laugh.
When they were done, Thuy placed the new vase on the shelf. “Not as fancy as the old one,” she said, “but even more special, because we made it.”
Lala beamed with pride and gave Thuy another hug.
From that day on, Lala seemed a little more cautious—at least with the vases. She still got into trouble here and there, of course. She was Lala, after all. But that one lesson stayed with her: some things are fragile, not just because they break, but because they mean something to someone’s heart.
And as for Thuy, she still missed the old vase sometimes. But every time she looked at the sunflower vase on the shelf, she smiled. Because it wasn’t just a decoration—it was a story of love, forgiveness, and a mischievous little monkey learning what it meant to care.
