Sammy the sloth was, well, slow. Really slow. The other animals in the rainforest often zoomed past him in a blur of feathers and fur. He loved living in the rainforest, but sometimes he wished he could be a little bit faster. He wanted to help his friends, but by the time he got where he was needed, the problem was usually solved!
One sunny morning, Rosie the toucan fluttered down to Sammy’s branch, looking worried. “Oh, Sammy!” she chirped. “Old Man Fitzwilliam’s mangoes are falling! He needs help collecting them before the monkeys get them all. But it’s a long way to his tree, and they’re falling *fast*!”
Sammy’s heart sank. Old Man Fitzwilliam was a kind, grumpy tortoise who always shared his delicious mangoes. Sammy wanted to help, but the mango tree was on the other side of the Whispering Waterfall, and that meant a long, slow journey. “I… I don’t know, Rosie,” he mumbled. “I’m just too slow. I’ll never get there in time.”
Rosie tilted her head. “But Sammy, even a little help is good help! And you’re a very careful climber. You can reach the mangoes that are high up, the ones we can’t get to.”
Sammy thought about that. He *was* a good climber. He could move slowly and steadily, making sure not to shake the branches too much. He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.”
And so, Sammy began his journey. He moved as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very quick at all. He passed Hazel the hummingbird, who zipped back and forth, offering encouragement. He waved to Bartholomew the beetle, who was busy rolling a ball of leaves. Everyone smiled and cheered him on, even though he was taking a long time.
When he finally arrived at Old Man Fitzwilliam’s tree, mangoes were tumbling everywhere! The monkeys were already having a feast. Old Man Fitzwilliam looked frustrated. “Too slow, Sammy, too slow!” he grumbled.
But then, Rosie pointed upwards. “Look, Old Man Fitzwilliam! Sammy can reach those high mangoes! The monkeys can’t climb that high.”
Sammy carefully climbed the tree, moving slowly and deliberately. He gently plucked the ripe mangoes from the branches, placing them carefully in a basket Rosie held below. He reached mangoes that no one else could reach, saving them from falling and being squashed.
Old Man Fitzwilliam’s grumpy face softened. “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “You may be slow, Sammy, but you’re a very helpful sloth. And those are the best mangoes of all!”
The monkeys, seeing Sammy’s helpfulness, even offered to help gather the fallen mangoes. Soon, the basket was overflowing. Sammy felt a warm glow inside. He didn’t need to be fast to be helpful. He just needed to be himself.
As the sun began to set, Sammy slowly made his way back home, Rosie flying alongside him. “You were amazing, Sammy!” she said. “You showed everyone that being slow isn’t a bad thing. It just means you do things at your own pace.”
Sammy smiled. He was still a slow sloth, and he knew he always would be. But now, he knew that being slow didn’t mean he couldn’t be helpful, or kind, or a good friend. And that was a very good feeling indeed. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of mangoes and the happy faces of his friends.