The afternoon was calm on CUTIS’s farm. The sun was warm but not harsh, a gentle breeze carried the smell of fresh earth, and the trees swayed lazily in the yard. CUTIS had just finished watering the vegetable garden when he heard a familiar chattering sound. His little companion—the baby monkey—was playing nearby, bouncing between branches and searching for something to nibble on.
The monkey had always been curious about food. If CUTIS ate it, the monkey wanted to try it. If the baby cooed at it, the monkey would steal a glance. That day, CUTIS had brought home a basket of fruit: ripe plums, small lychees, and juicy longans. Their sweet smell filled the house, attracting both the newborn baby’s gaze and the monkey’s eager nose.
The Forbidden Treat
“Not for you,” CUTIS warned gently as he set the fruit on the table. “These have seeds. You can’t just gobble them down.”
But the monkey, restless and determined, climbed onto the chair, stretched out a tiny hand, and grabbed a plum when CUTIS turned his back for just a moment. He bit into it happily, smacking his lips, juice running down his chin.
At first, everything seemed fine. The monkey was delighted—eyes sparkling, tail swishing, little squeaks of satisfaction echoing in the room. Mom laughed softly. “Look how proud he is of himself. He thinks he’s discovered treasure.”
But then, CUTIS noticed something change. The monkey paused mid-bite, his little face scrunching. He began pawing at his mouth, eyes widening in discomfort.
Trouble Begins
CUTIS rushed forward. “Oh no… the seed!”
The baby monkey had tried to chew, not realizing that the plum’s hard seed was hidden inside. Now it was stuck between his teeth and tongue, making him panic. He squeaked loudly, hopping from foot to foot, not knowing what to do.
Mom gasped. “Cutis, help him!”
CUTIS knelt down, speaking calmly. “It’s alright, little one. Don’t be afraid. I’ll help you.”
But the monkey, overwhelmed, tried to pry it out himself, shoving his fingers into his mouth. Juice smeared his fur, his eyes darted wildly, and his squeals grew louder. The baby in the cradle began crying, sensing the distress.
CUTIS knew he had to act quickly but carefully.
A Father’s Gentle Hands
He sat down cross-legged on the floor and held out his arms. “Come here, buddy. Trust me.”
The monkey hesitated, then, with a desperate squeak, leapt into CUTIS’s lap. CUTIS stroked his head gently. “Good boy. Just relax. I’ll take care of it.”
He used one hand to steady the monkey, and with the other, he carefully opened the little mouth. The monkey squirmed at first, frightened, but CUTIS’s voice soothed him: “Shhh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
Inside, he saw the problem—the plum seed wedged awkwardly against the monkey’s cheek. With his calloused but gentle fingers, he nudged it loose. It was slippery with juice, but after a careful twist, the seed popped out into his hand.
The monkey blinked, startled, then let out a long sigh. His little body sagged against CUTIS’s chest, as though saying, “Thank you, Father.”
Relief and Laughter
Mom exhaled in relief. “You saved him.”
CUTIS chuckled softly, wiping the juice from the monkey’s chin with a cloth. “That’s what fathers do. We protect, even from your own curiosity.”
The monkey chirped happily again, no longer in distress. To everyone’s surprise, he even tried to lick CUTIS’s fingers, as if thanking him. CUTIS pretended to scold. “You naughty boy. You nearly gave us a heart attack.”
The newborn, still fussing, was gently rocked by Mom until he calmed. When he heard the monkey’s cheerful squeaks again, the baby stopped crying and stared wide-eyed, almost as if he too felt the relief.
Teaching a Lesson
Later, CUTIS sat the monkey on the table. “Listen carefully,” he said, pointing at the basket of fruit. “Seeds are not for eating. They can hurt you.”
The monkey tilted his head, watching closely. CUTIS sliced a plum carefully, removed the seed, and handed the safe, soft flesh to the monkey. “This part is for you. Not the hard part inside.”
The monkey sniffed, then took the fruit eagerly, chewing with delight. He glanced at CUTIS as if realizing the truth: some things were not meant to be eaten whole. CUTIS ruffled his fur. “Good boy. From now on, I’ll prepare it for you.”
Mom smiled. “It seems even monkeys need fathers to teach them what’s safe.”
A Funny Aftermath
For the rest of the day, the monkey clung to CUTIS, following him everywhere. He refused to let go of his shirt, even when CUTIS tried to return to work in the garden. “Are you still scared?” CUTIS teased.
The monkey squeaked and buried his face in CUTIS’s chest, as though to say, “I trust you. I don’t want to get into trouble again.”
When CUTIS finally gave him another piece of fruit—this time seedless—the monkey ate slowly, glancing at him between bites as if seeking approval. CUTIS laughed. “Alright, alright. You learned your lesson.”
Even the baby seemed amused, letting out little coos whenever the monkey smacked his lips.
Family Togetherness
That evening, the family sat together outside, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. CUTIS cradled the baby in one arm while the monkey perched on his shoulder, munching happily on carefully prepared fruit.
Mom looked at the scene and whispered, “You’re such a good father—not just to the baby, but to him too.”
CUTIS smiled, his eyes soft. “Family isn’t about who looks like us. It’s about who we love and protect. Whether it’s our baby or this little monkey, they both need us.”
The monkey reached out, touching the baby’s tiny hand. The baby giggled, and the monkey chirped back, a strange but beautiful conversation of innocence.
Conclusion
The day could have ended in panic, but instead, it became a reminder of the bond that tied them all together. CUTIS had acted not just as a farmer or caretaker, but as a true father—protective, patient, and full of love.
The baby monkey had learned something important: not all parts of fruit are safe. But more importantly, he had learned that when he was in trouble, his father would always be there to help.
Later that night, as the baby slept peacefully in his cradle and the monkey curled up beside CUTIS, the farmer whispered softly, “You gave me a scare today, but you’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
The monkey sighed in contentment, drifting into dreams, his little belly full of safe fruit. The home was quiet again, filled with the warmth of trust, love, and laughter.
And from then on, whenever CUTIS cut fruit, the monkey waited patiently, never daring to bite into one whole. He had learned his lesson the hard way—but he had also learned something even sweeter: how deeply a father’s love could protect.
