The bright morning sun shimmered over the little farm, where the baby monkeys loved to play. CUTIS, the clever yet mischievous monkey, had been up early that day. He sat cross-legged with a tiny straw hat on his head, holding a small stick like a professional farmer. His face was serious, brows furrowed, tail twitching with concentration.
“Today,” CUTIS declared proudly, “I will become the greatest farmer in the jungle!”
Baby monkey, who was lazily munching on a banana, tilted his head in confusion. “You? A farmer?” he giggled. “You don’t even know how to plant a tree!”
CUTIS puffed up his chest. “Nonsense! I watched Dad plant a tree yesterday. It looked so easy. You just dig a hole, throw something inside, and pour water. Simple!”
Mom monkey, sitting nearby peeling fruit, tried to hold back a laugh. “Be careful, CUTIS. Farming is not just about digging holes,” she said gently.
But CUTIS waved his hand dramatically. “Mom, please, I’m a professional! You’ll see!”
Armed with a small wooden shovel he had “borrowed” from Dad, CUTIS marched to the backyard where a small patch of soft soil awaited. He wore an oversized gardening glove on one hand, and a tiny basket of seeds—well, actually, they were dried beans he took from the kitchen—was placed beside him.
Baby monkey followed, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You sure those are seeds?” he asked suspiciously.
CUTIS nodded with confidence. “Yes, they’re called… ‘special fast-growing jungle trees!’”
Mom burst into laughter behind them. She already knew those were not tree seeds, but she decided to watch the comedy unfold.
CUTIS began his “farming.” He dug a shallow hole and dramatically dropped the “seed” inside. Then he poured half a bucket of water over it—so much that muddy water splashed all over his face and fur.
“Oops,” he muttered, blinking mud out of his eyes. Baby monkey rolled on the grass, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “You look like a chocolate monkey now!” he teased.
CUTIS, refusing to be discouraged, stood up proudly. “Every great farmer gets dirty. This means I’m doing it right!”
A few minutes later, CUTIS had planted five “trees” (all in one crooked line). He stood back to admire his work. “There! In a few days, we’ll have a jungle!”
Baby monkey crossed his arms. “CUTIS, those look like beans, not tree seeds. Are you sure they’ll grow?”
CUTIS gave a mysterious grin. “Of course! You just have to believe in them!”
He then found a big leaf and used it as a makeshift fan to “bless” the seeds. “Grow, my little trees, grow strong and tall!” he chanted, dancing in a circle.
Mom monkey couldn’t hold it anymore—she laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “CUTIS, what kind of farming ritual is that?”
CUTIS winked. “A secret technique! Farmers must have good vibes for their trees to grow!”
The next morning, CUTIS rushed to the field before sunrise. He gasped dramatically. “Nothing grew yet! Maybe they’re shy…”
Baby monkey appeared behind him, munching another banana. “Or maybe because they’re beans, CUTIS. They don’t turn into trees!”
CUTIS frowned. “No, no, no. Maybe I need to sing to them. Dad said plants like music!”
And so, CUTIS began to sing—a totally out-of-tune melody about sunshine, bananas, and friendship. His voice echoed across the yard, sending birds flying away in confusion.
Mom monkey peeked out the window, shaking her head with laughter. “He’s serenading beans!” she whispered.
Baby monkey clapped sarcastically. “Bravo, CUTIS the Singing Farmer!”
CUTIS took a dramatic bow. “Thank you, thank you! My plants will grow faster now!”
By noon, CUTIS was sweating under the hot sun. His “farm” was muddy, messy, and completely plantless. But instead of giving up, he had another idea. “Maybe the problem is the soil. It’s too boring!”
He ran inside and brought out colorful pebbles, bits of banana peel, and even a half-eaten cookie. He placed them carefully around each hole. “There! Decorations! Plants love pretty things!”
Mom monkey nearly dropped her fruit bowl from laughing. “CUTIS! You just made a monkey art gallery, not a farm!”
Baby monkey was rolling on the floor now, holding his stomach. “You’re the funniest farmer ever!”
CUTIS sighed dramatically, pretending to wipe imaginary tears. “You’ll all regret laughing when my trees grow tall and strong!”
Days passed. Nothing grew. CUTIS checked every morning, his hopeful eyes turning into disbelief. “Why… why no trees?” he mumbled sadly.
Seeing him so disappointed, Baby monkey and Mom decided to surprise him. One evening, while CUTIS was napping, they secretly planted small saplings—real ones—right in his little field.
The next morning, CUTIS walked out, still sleepy, and froze. His eyes widened in shock. “THEY GREW! MY TREES GREW!”
He jumped, screamed, and ran around in circles. “It worked! My strategy worked!”
Mom and Baby monkey tried their best to hold back laughter.
CUTIS placed his hands on his hips proudly. “See? I told you! Farming is easy! You just need hard work and… good luck!”
Baby monkey whispered to Mom, “Should we tell him the truth?”
Mom chuckled softly. “Not yet. Let him enjoy his glory.”
For the next few days, CUTIS became obsessed with taking care of his “trees.” He watered them, talked to them, even offered them bits of fruit. He named each one: “Banana Tree Junior,” “Cutis Tree,” “Mommy Tree,” “Baby Tree,” and “King Tree.”
Every morning, he stood before them and gave little motivational speeches. “You must grow strong! One day, you’ll give us shade and fruits!”
Baby monkey couldn’t stop laughing. “CUTIS, you sound like a teacher giving a pep talk to plants!”
But CUTIS didn’t mind the teasing. He felt proud. “Every farmer needs to inspire his crops!” he declared.
One afternoon, Dad returned home and saw the new saplings. “Oh! Who planted these trees?”
CUTIS proudly jumped forward. “Me! I’m the new family farmer!”
Dad chuckled. “Really? They’re perfectly planted. Impressive job, CUTIS!”
Mom winked at Dad, signaling him not to ruin the surprise.
CUTIS grinned, chest puffed. “See, Dad? My strategy worked! Beans, water, dancing, singing, decorations—it all came together!”
Dad smiled kindly. “Well, you certainly have a unique method.”
Baby monkey burst into laughter again. “A very unique one, Dad!”
That night, the family sat under the stars, laughing and talking. CUTIS proudly shared “farming advice,” making everyone giggle nonstop.
Even though his first farming attempt had been a hilarious disaster, CUTIS had brought endless laughter and joy to everyone. His confidence, creativity, and silly determination made the whole family realize something special—sometimes, effort and humor can grow something even better than trees: happiness.
As Baby monkey leaned on Mom’s shoulder, giggling softly, he whispered, “CUTIS may not be a great farmer, but he sure knows how to plant laughter.”
And indeed, he did. Because from that day forward, every time the family looked at the little trees, they didn’t just see plants—they saw the memory of a funny, lovable monkey who believed that even beans could grow into dreams. 🌱😂
