The kitchen had always been the heart of the house—a place of warmth, familiar smells, and calm routines. For Dad, it was a sanctuary where he could brew his morning coffee in peace, chop vegetables with practiced rhythm, and enjoy a rare moment of quiet before the day’s chaos began. But on this particular morning, peace was the last thing waiting for him. Because CUTIS was awake… and CUTIS had discovered the kitchen.
CUTIS, the curious and fearless little troublemaker, had always been known for boundless energy and a talent for turning ordinary moments into unforgettable disasters. Whether it was climbing curtains, stealing shiny objects, or inventing games no one else understood, CUTIS lived life at full speed. Today, however, something about the kitchen seemed to call out like an irresistible playground, and Dad had a bad feeling the moment he heard the faint clatter of metal from the other room.
At first, Dad tried to ignore it. A small sound could mean nothing, right? Maybe CUTIS had just nudged a spoon or knocked over an empty bowl. But then came another noise—louder this time. A sharp clang followed by the unmistakable scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor. Dad froze, coffee cup halfway to his lips, his heart beginning to race.
“CUTIS?” he called out cautiously.
No answer.
That silence was worse than any noise. Dad set down his cup and hurried toward the kitchen, each step filling him with growing dread. As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. There was CUTIS, standing proudly on a chair that had clearly been dragged to the counter, tiny hands reaching for something far beyond safe reach.
“Oh no, no, no,” Dad muttered, breaking into a run.
CUTIS had somehow managed to climb onto the countertop, knocking over a stack of plates in the process. They didn’t shatter, but the sound echoed like thunder in Dad’s ears. CUTIS squealed with delight, mistaking Dad’s panic for encouragement, and immediately began exploring further—poking at jars, tapping on pots, and tugging at anything that looked interesting.
Dad rushed forward, arms outstretched. “CUTIS, stop! Get down right now!”
But CUTIS had other plans.
With lightning speed, CUTIS grabbed a wooden spoon and began banging it against a metal pot like a drummer at a wild concert. The noise was deafening. Dad winced, heart pounding, imagining neighbors complaining or worse—CUTIS losing balance and falling.
“Careful!” Dad shouted, trying to keep his voice calm despite the fear creeping into every word.
CUTIS paused for a moment, tilting their head as if considering the warning. Dad felt a flicker of hope. Maybe—just maybe—this would be the moment CUTIS listened. But then, as if possessed by pure chaos, CUTIS laughed and resumed the performance with even more enthusiasm.
The spoon slipped from CUTIS’s hand and clattered to the floor. Instead of stopping, CUTIS leaned forward to watch it fall, shifting weight dangerously close to the edge of the counter. Dad’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
“That’s it!” Dad exclaimed, lunging forward.
But CUTIS was quicker.
In one reckless move, CUTIS hopped down from the counter—not onto the floor safely, but onto another chair, which promptly tipped sideways. Time seemed to slow as Dad watched the chair wobble, gravity threatening to take over.
Dad dove forward, barely managing to grab CUTIS just as the chair crashed to the ground. The sound was loud, sharp, and terrifying. Dad held CUTIS tightly, heart racing, hands trembling.
“Are you okay?” Dad asked breathlessly.
CUTIS blinked, then grinned.
That grin—innocent, mischievous, and completely unaware of the danger just escaped—made Dad’s knees weak. He set CUTIS down carefully and sank into a nearby chair, rubbing his forehead. His nerves were shot.
But the adventure wasn’t over.
While Dad was still trying to catch his breath, CUTIS spotted something new: the open refrigerator. The door stood wide, inviting, light glowing like a portal to endless possibilities. CUTIS waddled over before Dad could react.
“Oh no, please don’t,” Dad whispered, scrambling up again.
CUTIS reached inside and began pulling items out one by one. A tomato rolled across the floor. A carton of milk tipped over, spilling a thin white line that crept toward Dad’s feet. CUTIS clapped excitedly, clearly impressed by the mess being created.
Dad slipped slightly on the milk and nearly lost his balance.
“CUTIS!” he cried, half terrified, half exhausted.
He moved quickly to close the fridge, but CUTIS darted around him like a tiny whirlwind, now heading toward the stove. Thankfully, it was off—but that didn’t stop Dad’s imagination from running wild. What if it had been hot? What if CUTIS turned a knob?
Dad’s hands shook as he scooped CUTIS up once more. “That’s enough kitchen adventures for today,” he said firmly, trying to sound calm.
CUTIS wriggled in his arms, clearly unhappy with this decision. A small protest squeak escaped, followed by exaggerated pouting. But Dad didn’t give in. He carried CUTIS away from the kitchen, shutting the door behind them like sealing off a disaster zone.
Only then did Dad finally exhale.
The house fell quiet, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and Dad’s uneven breathing. He looked down at CUTIS, who had already lost interest in the chaos and was now fiddling with Dad’s shirt button as if nothing unusual had happened.
Dad couldn’t help but laugh—softly at first, then louder. The tension melted away, replaced by a familiar mix of relief, love, and disbelief.
“You’re going to give me a heart attack one day,” Dad said gently.
CUTIS responded by leaning closer, resting against Dad’s chest, eyes wide and curious once more. In that moment, Dad realized something important. CUTIS wasn’t reckless out of malice or disobedience. CUTIS was simply exploring the world with fearless curiosity, trusting completely that someone would always be there to catch them.
Later that day, after the kitchen was cleaned, the chairs returned to their places, and the milk wiped from the floor, Dad stood quietly in the doorway, looking at the room that had nearly given him a nervous breakdown. It looked so harmless now—just a kitchen again.
But Dad knew better.
With CUTIS around, no place was ever truly safe from adventure. And while the stress and fear were real, so was the joy. Because every reckless moment, every near disaster, was also a reminder of how alive, curious, and full of spirit CUTIS truly was.
Dad smiled, shaking his head.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured, “I’m installing locks on everything.”
From the other room came a small giggle—CUTIS, already plotting the next great adventure.
