The afternoon sunlight streamed gently through the small windows of the living room. It was quiet, except for the sound of pages flipping. Lala sat cross-legged on the soft carpet with her favorite storybook in her lap. The book had bright pictures of princesses, castles, and magical animals. She loved to trace her tiny fingers along the colorful illustrations and imagine herself living in those stories.
Today, she was especially excited. Mom had promised that once she finished her nap, she would read aloud the chapter about the brave little girl who saved her village with kindness. Lala couldn’t wait. She hugged the book tightly to her chest and whispered, “You’re my favorite.”
But just then, Bon came stumbling into the room. Bon was her baby brother, a curious little toddler with chubby hands and a mischievous smile. He couldn’t talk much yet, but he understood one thing very clearly: if Lala loved something, it must be fun to touch.
“Bon, no!” Lala warned as she saw him toddle closer. “This is my storybook. Don’t touch, okay?”
Bon, of course, didn’t understand her warning. He giggled, leaned over, and grabbed one corner of the book. His little fingers tugged at the delicate pages.
Lala gasped and held on tightly. “No, Bon! This is special. It’s not for playing!”
But Bon squealed with joy, thinking it was a fun game. He pulled harder. Before Lala could react, ripppppp! The sound pierced the air like a tiny thunderclap. One of the pages tore right down the middle.
Lala’s heart sank. She stared at the torn page, her favorite illustration now broken in two pieces. Her lips trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Bon! You ruined it!” she cried. Her voice shook with both anger and sadness.
Bon, not realizing the seriousness of what he had done, laughed again and clapped his little hands. To him, the sound of tearing paper was just another exciting discovery.
But for Lala, it was devastating. She hugged the book protectively against her chest, her face crumpling. “Why did you do that, Bon? This was my favorite! You’re so mean!”
Her sadness quickly turned into anger. She pushed the remaining pieces of the book away from Bon’s reach and glared at him with tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to play with you anymore!” she shouted.
Bon blinked at her, confused. His smile faded. He tilted his head, sensing that his sister wasn’t happy anymore. His little hands reached toward her as if to say, “Don’t be mad.” But Lala turned away, clutching her book and sobbing.
Just then, Mom walked into the room. She looked at the scene — Bon sitting on the floor, confused and quiet, and Lala crying with a ripped book in her lap. “What happened here?” Mom asked gently.
“He tore it, Mom!” Lala wailed. “My favorite storybook! It’s ruined!”
Mom sighed softly and sat beside Lala, pulling her into a warm embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, I know how much you loved this book. I’m so sorry it got torn.” She stroked Lala’s hair, letting her cry into her shoulder.
Bon crawled closer, tugging at Mom’s sleeve, wanting attention too.
“Bon doesn’t understand yet,” Mom explained gently. “He didn’t mean to hurt you or your book. He was just curious. But I know it feels very bad to have something you love get ruined.”
Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “It’s not fair. He always touches my things. And now it’s broken forever.”
Mom smiled softly and reached for the torn page. “It’s not broken forever, Lala. Look — we can fix it with a little tape. It might not be perfect, but the story will still be here. And you know what? You’ll always remember that this book survived even when Bon was little and learning.”
Lala looked at the ripped page through watery eyes. She didn’t like the jagged tear, but she trusted Mom’s words. “Really? It can be fixed?”
“Yes,” Mom nodded. “And maybe we can make a special rule. Some books are for you, and some are for both of you. That way Bon has something safe to explore, and you can keep your favorites safe.”
Lala thought about it. She looked at Bon, who was now sitting with wide, innocent eyes, holding out one hand toward her as if saying sorry without words. Her anger softened just a little.
“Okay,” she whispered. “But Bon has to stay away from my special books.”
Mom chuckled. “We’ll work on teaching him. He’s still very small, but he’ll learn. And maybe you can help show him how to turn pages gently.”
Later that evening, Mom carefully taped the torn page back together. Lala sat beside her, watching each careful movement. When the book was whole again, Lala hugged it tightly. The tear was still visible, but the story was saved.
Bon waddled over and handed Lala a block from his toy pile — his own little way of saying sorry. Lala hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Okay, Bon. I forgive you. But no more tearing, okay?”
Bon giggled, clapped his hands, and leaned against her shoulder.
That night, Mom read the story aloud as promised. Lala listened carefully, holding Bon close as he snuggled against her side. She realized that even though Bon had torn her book, he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He was just little. And even when things got ruined, love and forgiveness could mend them — just like tape mended her storybook.
As she drifted off to sleep later, Lala whispered to herself, “I’ll be more careful with my things. And maybe I’ll teach Bon to love stories, too.”
The storybook, though patched, remained her favorite. It wasn’t perfect anymore, but now it held an extra memory — one of anger, sadness, forgiveness, and family love.
