Bath time in the forest always brought a mixture of chaos, curiosity, and pure comedy—especially when it involved the baby monkey named Nunu and his two older siblings, Miki and Toto. They were known throughout the troop for their mischievous energy, their dramatic reactions, and their talent for turning even the quietest moment into a complete circus. But nothing made them panic more than the sight of a soap-covered infant monkey squealing at the top of his lungs.
It all started on a warm, sunny afternoon when Mama Rose decided Nunu absolutely had to take a bath. He had rolled in mud, then grass, then somehow found bits of fruit stuck in his hair. He looked—and smelled—like a walking compost pile with legs. Mama Rose clapped her hands together and said, “Alright, baby, time to get clean!” Her voice carried across the trees like an announcement of doom.
Nunu, of course, had no idea what she meant. He waddled happily toward her, thinking he was about to get a cuddle or a snack. But behind him, Miki and Toto froze. Their eyes widened. They knew that tone. They knew that bucket. They knew that soap.
“It’s… bath time…” Toto whispered dramatically, gripping Miki’s arm.
“No. No, no, no. I’m not staying for this,” Miki declared, her voice trembling. She had seen too many bath-time disasters—Nunu screaming like he was being kidnapped, water splashing everywhere, Mama Rose chasing him around like a determined general refusing to surrender.
And the moment Mama Rose lifted Nunu and dipped him into the warm water, everything exploded into chaos.
First came the scream—a high-pitched, squeaky, outrage-filled cry that echoed through the treetops.
“AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Miki and Toto jumped so hard they nearly fell from their branch.
“He’s dying! HE’S DYING!” Toto yelled, even though he knew deep down the baby was just dramatic.
“Run! RUN!” Miki shouted, grabbing his tail and bolting.
The two siblings took off at top speed, tearing across the forest floor like cartoon characters. Leaves flew. Dirt puffed. Birds scattered as the duo ran for their lives, convinced bath time might somehow spread and catch them too.
Meanwhile, Mama Rose calmly held Nunu in the water, trying to scrub the mud out of his fur as he wiggled, screeched, and slapped the water like a furious toddler.
“No! Mama! No water! I clean already! I clean!” Nunu insisted loudly, even though he looked like he had not seen soap in all his days of living.
Mama Rose sighed. “You are not clean. You smell like rotten bananas.”
Back in the forest, Miki and Toto continued sprinting until they reached the far end of their territory. They dove behind a tree, gasping for air, their hearts pounding like they had escaped a wild predator.
“Do you… do you think Mom saw us?” Toto asked, peeking around the tree.
“No way,” Miki replied. “She’s too busy fighting the swamp creature we call our baby brother.”
But then a sound reached them—another shriek.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
Miki clapped her hands over her ears. “Oh my gosh, he’s louder today!”
Toto trembled. “Should we go back? What if Mom needs help?”
“Help with WHAT?” Miki shot back. “I’m not going near that soap. You know she’ll say, ‘Since you’re here… YOU take a bath too.’ Not happening.”
The siblings sat in hiding until the forest quieted. Slowly, curiosity formed in their eyes. They crept back toward the bathing area, moving cautiously like spies.
When they peeked through the bushes, they gasped.
Mama Rose had finally gotten Nunu clean. His fur was fluffed, shiny, and beautifully golden again. But Nunu… oh, Nunu looked like he had just fought in a war. His hair stuck up like he’d been electrocuted, and his eyes were wide in trauma.
He sat shivering dramatically on a rock, wrapped in a leaf like a tiny burrito.
Miki burst out laughing. “HE LOOKS LIKE A WET CHICKEN!”
Toto rolled on the ground. “HAHAHAHA! Nunu, what happened to your FACE?”
Nunu pouted. “Mama attack me.”
Mama Rose snorted. “I did not attack you. I bathed you.”
“Same thing,” Nunu mumbled, still sulking.
Before Miki could tease him again, Mama Rose suddenly turned her head toward the older siblings.
“You two,” she said slowly, “you ran away earlier.”
Instant freeze.
Miki gulped. Toto held his breath.
Mama Rose raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
Neither dared to answer. Finally, Toto whispered, “Um… we were… uh… letting the birds know… that… uh… bath time was happening.”
Miki slapped her forehead.
Mama Rose crossed her arms. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you two to take a bath as well.”
The siblings gasped in horror.
“No!” Miki squeaked. “We’re clean!”
“We’re VERY clean!” Toto added, scrubbing his arms dramatically as if proving it.
Mama Rose smiled slyly. Too slyly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” they shouted in unison.
But then a breeze passed by… carrying a particular smell.
Mama Rose sniffed. “Are you two… hiding mud under your fur?”
Miki froze.
Toto froze.
Nunu pointed at them with the confidence of a snitch. “Mama! They stinky!”
The look Mama Rose gave them was the look of a hunter spotting prey.
Miki and Toto knew they had exactly one second before doom.
“RUN!” Miki screamed.
And once again, they sprinted through the forest, screaming, the ground shaking beneath their feet as Mama Rose chased them with the same bucket of water she had used for Nunu.
Nunu watched, sipping juice from a fruit piece like a tiny king enjoying the show.
His trauma? Forgotten.
His siblings’ fate? Hilarious.
He laughed so hard he rolled off his rock.
From the treetops, Mama Rose’s voice echoed:
“GET BACK HERE! YOU TWO ARE NEXT!”
“NOOOO!” screamed Toto in reply.
“YOU’LL NEVER CATCH US!” Miki cried as she leapt over a log.
By sunset, peace finally returned. Mama Rose had caught one of them—Toto, who accepted his bath like a tragic martyr—and Miki, who managed to escape but got caught the next morning when she wasn’t paying attention.
But that night, as the family cuddled up together, clean and fluffy, Nunu snuggled between his siblings and giggled softly.
“Bath time funny,” he whispered.
Toto groaned. “Not funny.”
Miki groaned too. “Not funny at ALL.”
But Mama Rose smiled and kissed each of them.
“Whether you run, cry, hide, or scream,” she said warmly, “you’re still my babies.”
And somewhere deep inside—even if they would never admit it—Miki and Toto were glad for moments like this. Moments of chaos, laughter, warm water, and Mama’s gentle care.
Even if they’d still run away next time.
The End.
