In the peaceful village of Sre Krahorm, nestled between rolling green hills and glistening rice fields, lived a cheerful little boy named Cutis. With his unruly hair, round cheeks, and twinkling eyes, he was loved by all. But Cutis had one small problem—he was always getting into trouble.
Everyone knew that if there was a missing mango from Auntie Dara’s tree, a misplaced chicken from Grandma Sitha’s coop, or mysteriously dyed laundry on the line, Cutis had something to do with it. Not out of meanness—never! Cutis was simply curious, imaginative, and very, very active.
One bright sunny morning, while his mom was busy cooking lunch for the family, Cutis had a brilliant idea.Fresh Cut 🤩
“I’m going to help!” he declared proudly, puffing out his little chest.
“Alright,” his mom said cautiously, wiping her hands on her apron. “Just don’t touch anything hot, sharp, or spicy.”
Cutis nodded enthusiastically, then dashed off toward the backyard. He looked around for inspiration. There, standing tall and confident in the corner of the garden, was the family’s old scarecrow.
“I’ll make it better!” Cutis whispered, inspired.
With an armful of flour from the kitchen, ketchup from the fridge, and glitter glue from his sister’s craft box, Cutis began his makeover mission. He gave the scarecrow a ketchup mustache, floury eyebrows, and glittery fingernails. Then he added a dramatic touch—he dragged out his mom’s nicest silk scarf to tie around its neck like a superhero cape.
When he stepped back to admire his masterpiece, he felt so proud he could burst.
But Cutis wasn’t done.
Seeing the scarecrow all dressed up gave him another idea: why not surprise his mom by “decorating” the chickens too? After all, they looked a little boring. He tried to put tiny hats made of banana leaves on their heads and painted their feet with his sister’s nail polish.
The chickens clucked and flapped in outrage, kicking over the flower pots and running wildly around the garden, their sparkly feet stamping all over the vegetables. One chicken even leapt onto the windowsill and flew straight into the kitchen.
“AAAAH!” his mother screamed, spinning around to find a chicken wearing a leaf hat standing in her rice pot.
Mom stormed into the backyard, eyes wide in disbelief at the scene: her garden destroyed, her scarecrow looking like it had gone to a costume party, and Cutis grinning proudly.
“Ta-da!” he said, arms out like a magician.
His mother didn’t speak. Not at first. She just closed her eyes, took a long breath, and counted to ten.
Cutis gulped.
“Cutis,” she said slowly, “I love that you want to help. But this… THIS—” she gestured to the chaos “—is not helping.”
He looked down, suddenly realizing that maybe painting the chickens wasn’t his best idea.
But his mom, rather than shouting or scolding, got a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Alright,” she said, hands on her hips. “Since you love decorating so much… you’re going to help me redecorate the whole backyard.”
Cutis blinked. “All of it?”
“All of it,” she said firmly. “And to make sure you really learn, I think we need to make this fun for everyone.”
Fun? Cutis tilted his head.
That afternoon, she called all the neighbors and told them what had happened. Everyone gathered around, curious and eager to see the famous Cutis’s latest disaster. When they saw the chicken with pink toenails and the sparkly scarecrow, they burst out laughing.
“This boy,” Auntie Dara said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye, “has more imagination than the whole village combined!”
But the best part was yet to come.
Cutis’s mom brought out a giant cardboard sign that read:
“Caution: Backyard Decorator in Training!”
She tied it to Cutis’s back, gave him rubber gloves, a mop, and a bucket of soapy water, and then made him wear a flowery pink apron with sparkles that read:
“Mommy’s Little Helper (Who Messes Everything First)”
Everyone cracked up. Even Cutis couldn’t help but giggle.
“Oh no,” he groaned dramatically, “I’ve been cute-ified! This is the worst punishment ever!”
His mom winked. “If you want to make things pretty, you better learn how to clean up first.”
So, under the amused eyes of the villagers, Cutis scrubbed the chicken coop, helped replant the garden, and even sewed a new scarf for the scarecrow—with supervision, of course.
And you know what?
He kind of enjoyed it.
At the end of the day, his mom ruffled his hair and said, “You’ve got a big heart, Cutis. But from now on, big hearts need big responsibility too.”
“Got it,” Cutis said, saluting with a soapy glove. “No more painting chickens. Probably.”
The whole village cheered.
From that day on, whenever someone needed help with creative ideas—or a very entertaining clean-up crew—they called Cutis. And though he still got into trouble now and then, everyone knew that if his mom was nearby, a cute and dramatic lesson wasn’t far behind.
