In the heart of the jungle, where sunlight danced through the trees, a small cry echoed from the base of a tall palm. It was soft at first, but quickly grew louder—sharp, desperate.
“Eeek! Eeeeek!”
Deep inside a hollow hole in the trunk, baby monkey Nono was stuck. His tiny legs had slipped through while he was curiously peeking inside, and now he couldn’t climb back out. The rough bark scratched his arms as he tried again and again to wiggle free, but the hole was too narrow.
Tears streamed down his furry cheeks. “Help!” he cried, his voice trembling. “Momma! Somebody!”
Birds flew overhead. A squirrel paused, then darted off. No one came.
Hours passed. The jungle slowly turned golden with the setting sun. Nono’s cries grew weaker, his throat sore. He curled up inside the hole, shaking. He missed his mom. He missed the warm hug of her arms. He was just trying to find a snack—just exploring. He didn’t mean to get lost. He didn’t mean to get stuck.
Then, a sound. Familiar chattering. Leaves rustled nearby.
“Nono? Nono, where are you?”
It was his mother’s voice.
“Here! Down here!” he squeaked as loud as he could.
Within seconds, she appeared, eyes wide with worry. She reached into the hole, carefully pulling him out. Nono burst into fresh tears as she held him tightly against her chest.
“Oh, my poor little explorer,” she whispered, kissing his head.
That night, safe in her arms, Nono finally smiled. He had been scared, lonely, and stuck—but his mommy found him.
