By the river’s edge, a mother monkey was eager to teach her baby something new. The water sparkled under the sun, and the forest echoed with birdsong. It seemed like a perfect time for a swim.
With her baby clutched tightly to her chest, the mother stepped into the river. At first, everything seemed fine. She dipped into the water, came up, dipped again—playful and proud.
But her baby wasn’t ready.
Each time she dove beneath the surface, the baby monkey’s eyes widened in fear. He clung to her fur with all his tiny strength, gasping for air between each dive. His little head bobbed under for seconds at a time—too long for his tiny lungs.
On the third dive, his fingers slipped.
Splash!
His tiny body broke from her grip and sank halfway into the water. He kicked and screamed, arms flailing, eyes full of panic. He didn’t know how to swim. He just wanted to breathe.
The mother surfaced and turned sharply. She realized too late—her baby was in danger.
With lightning speed, she grabbed him from the water and pulled him to safety on the riverbank. He coughed, shivered, and squeaked pitifully, burying his soaked face into her chest.
She wrapped him in her arms tightly, rocking him and grunting low, as if to say:
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The baby clung to her again, still shaken, but grateful to feel her warmth.
It was a mistake. A scary one. But one that reminded her that her baby wasn’t ready for the deep end just yet.
