In the heart of the jungle, where sunlight trickles through layers of emerald leaves and the air hums with gentle life, there lived a tiny baby monkey named Moko. Moko was known among his troop for being curious, playful, and endlessly energetic—at least, most of the time. But on this particular warm afternoon, something unusual was happening. Moko, the little monkey who never seemed to tire, was struggling to keep his eyes open.
It started with a twitch of his nose. Then his eyelids drooped like heavy curtains. His tiny fingers loosened their grip on the branch, and his fluffy head began to bob forward. The older monkeys watched in amusement as Moko fought the most powerful force in the jungle that day: the mightiest yawn.
Moko tried to resist. He shook himself awake, rubbed his eyes with his palms, and even attempted a small hop along the branch. But nothing worked. His body demanded rest, and soon a soft, squeaky sound slipped from his mouth. His chest expanded, his tiny face stretched wide, and then—Hwaaaaahhh!—out came a yawn so big that even the parrots overhead paused to look.
The troop burst into gentle chatter. A few monkeys even yawned back automatically, caught in the contagious wave. Moko didn’t notice; he was already swaying, sleepy beyond measure. His mother scooped him close, pulling him into the warmth of her fur. Safe in her arms, he let out one last, even bigger yawn—the kind that seemed to lift him on its breath and carry him straight into dreamland.
