It was a warm afternoon, and little Tong had been exploring the yard with his usual playful curiosity. His eyes sparkled when he spotted a tall tree nearby—its branches stretching up toward the sky. Without thinking twice, he decided to climb. At first, it felt exciting. His small hands gripped the bark, and he moved quickly, eager to see the view from higher up.
But halfway up, Tong suddenly froze. Mom was standing below, watching him closely, her face looking a little stern. In that moment, his confidence began to fade. His little lips started making nervous smack-smack sounds, a habit he had whenever he felt uneasy or scared. The higher he looked, the more he realized how far he was from the ground—and from Mom’s comforting arms.
Mom called out gently, “Tong, come down slowly!” But to Tong, her voice sounded serious, and it made his heart race faster. He didn’t want to get in trouble, but he also wasn’t sure how to climb back down without slipping.
He clung tightly to the branch, his tail curling around it for balance, his lips still smacking in quick, anxious bursts. Mom stepped closer, stretching her hands up toward him. After a long pause, Tong slowly made his way down, each step shaky but determined.
The moment his little feet touched the ground, Mom scooped him up into a safe hug. Tong pressed his face against her, still lip-smacking softly, but now out of relief.
For Tong, the lesson was clear—trees are fun, but nothing feels safer than Mom’s arms waiting at the bottom.
