It was an ordinary sunny afternoon in the countryside. Birds chirped from the treetops, a gentle breeze swept through the grass, and the house was filled with the sweet scent of jasmine. Inside the cozy home, Lala—usually a bundle of energy—was curled up in her little blanket nest, unusually still and quiet.
Mom had just finished watering the plants in the backyard when she walked inside to check on Lala. The toddler monkey had seemed a little sleepy that morning, but nothing too alarming. However, as soon as Mom touched her forehead, her eyes widened in shock. Lala’s skin was burning hot.
“Oh no, baby!” Mom whispered as she scooped Lala up gently into her arms. Lala let out a weak sound, her limbs limp, her eyes half-closed.
Mom rushed to find the thermometer. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed it under Lala’s little armpit. The beep came too soon, and the number flashed: 39.8°C (103.6°F).
Her heart pounded. This wasn’t just a mild fever. This was serious.
Over the next few hours, things got even more concerning. Lala refused to eat. Her favorite banana puree? No response. Her beloved mango slices? Not even a sniff. Normally, Lala would squeal with joy and bounce up and down at the sight of her snacks. But now, she didn’t even open her eyes.
Mom tried to remain calm, but her worry deepened with every passing minute. She placed cool cloths on Lala’s forehead, spoke soothingly, and kept offering water. Sometimes, Lala took a tiny sip, but then she’d drift off again, her breathing shallow.
“I should’ve noticed sooner,” Mom murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. “She seemed tired yesterday, but I thought it was just from all the playing.”
As the sun began to set, Mom decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She gently wrapped Lala in a soft towel and got ready to head to the village vet. Even though it was a bumpy ride down the dirt road, she held Lala close to her chest, whispering comfort.
The vet’s clinic was still open, and a kind woman named Dr. Lina met them at the door.
“Let’s take a look at this little one,” she said softly, examining Lala with expert hands.
Dr. Lina listened to Lala’s breathing, checked her ears, her throat, and her belly. Then she gently touched her lymph nodes and looked into her eyes.
“She’s fighting off a viral infection,” Dr. Lina explained. “Her body’s doing its job, but it needs support. I’ll give her some medicine to bring the fever down and something to help with hydration.”
Mom sighed in relief as Dr. Lina gave Lala a mild injection and handed over a small bottle of syrup.
“But the most important thing is rest and care. She’ll be weak for a few days, but with your love, she’ll recover.”
Back at home, Mom turned the living room into a soft, quiet recovery nest. She laid down fresh blankets, surrounded by Lala’s favorite stuffed toys, and placed a humidifier nearby. Every few hours, she offered tiny spoons of water and the prescribed syrup.
Through the night, Mom stayed awake, her eyes constantly watching over Lala. The fever would come and go in waves. Sometimes Lala would whimper softly in her sleep, and Mom would quickly stroke her back and sing their favorite lullaby.
By the second day, Lala was still weak, but there were small signs of improvement. Her fever had slightly dropped, and she opened her eyes a bit more. When Mom offered her water, she sipped it and gave a tiny grunt that sounded like “thank you.”
It made Mom tear up.
“You’re so strong, my little fighter,” she whispered, kissing Lala’s warm forehead.
On the third day, Lala nibbled on a piece of soft banana for the first time since falling ill. It was a tiny bite, but it gave Mom hope.
She took pictures and videos of every little milestone and sent them to the neighbors who had been worried. Messages of support came flooding in.
“Get well soon, little Lala!”
“She’s so brave!”
“Let us know if you need anything!”
By the end of the week, Lala had turned a corner. She still tired easily, but she was eating again, even reaching out to grab a piece of papaya from Mom’s hand. Her favorite toy, a plush lion, was once again clutched in her arms. And most importantly, she gave Mom her first real smile in days.
“You scared me so much, sweetie,” Mom whispered, holding Lala close. “But I knew you’d be okay. We got through it together.”
As Lala regained her strength, Mom started letting her go outside for a few minutes each day, making sure the sun wasn’t too strong. Lala would sit in her usual spot by the garden path, watching butterflies flutter by, still too tired to chase them, but visibly happier.
The entire experience had taught Mom an important lesson. Even when things seem normal, little changes in behavior—like unusual sleepiness or loss of appetite—can be signs of something more. She promised herself that she’d always trust her instincts and act quickly when Lala seemed off.
A week later, Lala was back to her old self. She danced in the living room with her blanket cape fluttering behind her, did somersaults on the sofa cushions, and squealed every time Mom brought in a new fruit bowl.
One afternoon, as they sat outside under the mango tree, Lala curled into Mom’s lap, looked up with her big, curious eyes, and gently touched Mom’s cheek with her tiny hand.
It was as if she was saying, “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
Mom smiled, holding her baby close. “Always, Lala. Always.”
And in that quiet, peaceful moment, with the breeze rustling the leaves above them, Mom knew that no matter how scary things got, her love and care would always be Lala’s greatest medicine.
