The morning sun had barely risen when the first light spilled across the fields, painting the farm in shades of gold and green. The air was fresh with the scent of damp earth after the night’s dew, and a cool breeze whispered through the leaves of the fruit trees. Lala, full of curiosity and energy, was already awake. Her little hands clutched a woven basket almost as big as her, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Dad, today I want to help at the farm!” she declared, running to catch up with him.
Dad chuckled, looking down at his enthusiastic daughter. “Help, hm? Well, it’s not all play, you know. Farm work can be tiring.”
But Lala shook her head. “I can do it! You’ll see!”
They walked together down the dirt path, the sounds of roosters crowing and birds chirping filling the air. Baby Monkey, who never wanted to miss out on any adventure, skipped behind them. He carried a tiny cloth bag across his shoulder, pretending it was just like Dad’s big farm satchel.
As they reached the grove, Lala noticed something she had never seen so closely before. Amid the lush green leaves were round, bright fruits hanging from the branches—some light green, some turning pale yellow. Her eyes widened in amazement.
“Dad! What are those?” she asked, pointing.
Dad smiled. “Those, my dear, are guavas. They grow best here at the farm. Today, you’ll learn how to harvest them.”
“Guavas…” Lala repeated softly, tasting the word as if it were already sweet in her mouth. Baby Monkey hopped excitedly, clapping his little hands.
Dad explained patiently, “Guavas are ready to pick when they’re firm but not too hard, and their skin changes color slightly. If they smell sweet, that means they’re perfect to eat.”
Lala listened carefully, her curiosity growing stronger with each word. She stretched her tiny arm to touch one of the fruits, and sure enough, she caught the faintest fragrance of sweetness. “Mmm! This one is ready, right Dad?”
Dad examined it and nodded. “Yes, good eye! Go ahead and twist it gently.”
With determination, Lala reached up on her tiptoes, carefully twisting the guava until it snapped free from the branch. She placed it gently in her basket, her face glowing with pride.
“I did it!” she squealed.
Baby Monkey didn’t want to be left behind. He scampered up the lower branches, reaching for a guava of his own. But instead of twisting gently, he tugged and pulled until the fruit dropped straight on his head with a thud!
“Ow! Ooo-oo!” Baby Monkey rubbed his head, while Lala laughed so hard she nearly toppled over.
Dad chuckled, picking up the fallen guava. “That’s why we twist, not pull,” he explained gently. Baby Monkey nodded sheepishly but was already climbing again, determined to do better.
The harvesting continued, turning into a lively adventure. Lala discovered guavas hidden behind thick leaves, and every time she found one, she would shout, “Another treasure!” and drop it into her basket. Baby Monkey followed her lead, imitating her movements, and slowly learned the right way to harvest.
Soon, the air around them was filled with the sound of laughter, rustling leaves, and the occasional plop of a guava landing safely in a basket.
After an hour, Lala’s basket was half-full. She sat on a rock, wiping the sweat from her forehead, but her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.
“Dad, the guavas are like green gems hiding in the trees,” she said dreamily. “I feel like a treasure hunter.”
Dad smiled warmly. “And every treasure you find is food that nourishes us. That’s the magic of farming.”
To reward their hard work, Dad pulled out his pocketknife and cut open a ripe guava. The pale pink flesh glistened in the sunlight, dotted with tiny seeds. The sweet aroma floated into the air, making Lala’s mouth water.
“Here, try it,” Dad said, offering her a slice.
She took a bite, her eyes closing in delight. The guava was sweet and slightly tangy, refreshing after all the work. “Wow! It’s the most delicious thing ever!”
Baby Monkey squeaked eagerly until Dad handed him a slice too. He gobbled it so quickly that juice dribbled down his chin, and then he reached for another piece, his eyes wide with greed. Lala laughed, wiping his messy face with a leaf.
The simple snack felt like a feast. Sitting there under the shade of the guava tree, eating the fruits they had just harvested, Lala felt a deep sense of joy.
But the day wasn’t over. Dad reminded them, “We still need to carry these guavas back to the farmhouse.”
Lala looked at her heavy basket and sighed. “It’s so full… but I’ll do it.” She heaved it up with determination, wobbling slightly under the weight. Baby Monkey trotted beside her, carrying just two guavas in his little bag, acting as though he were sharing the same burden.
They walked slowly, stopping now and then to rest, but with every step Lala’s pride grew. She wasn’t just playing at the farm—she was truly helping.
When they finally reached the farmhouse, Grandma was waiting with a big smile. “Oh, look at all those guavas! You two worked so hard.”
Lala’s cheeks flushed with pride as Grandma took the basket. “Can we make guava juice?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Grandma replied. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the sound of slicing, blending, and the sweet aroma of fresh guava. Glasses of cold pink juice were poured, and everyone gathered at the table.
Lala sipped hers slowly, savoring the taste. Baby Monkey gulped his down in one go, smacking his lips. Dad raised his glass and said, “To Lala’s first harvest!”
They all clinked glasses, and laughter filled the room.
That night, as Lala curled into bed, she thought about her day. She had discovered something new, learned how to harvest, and shared her hard work with her family. Her heart swelled with happiness.
Before drifting to sleep, she whispered softly to herself, “Today was the best adventure ever. Tomorrow, I’ll find even more treasures at the farm.”
And with that, Lala dreamed of endless guava trees, baskets brimming with fruit, and the sweet taste of discovery.
