The morning sun peeked through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow over the neatly arranged ingredients on the counter. It was supposed to be a peaceful day, one where Thuy would teach Lala some simple recipes. But little did she know, the lesson would turn into a comedic adventure filled with confusion, clumsiness, and laughter.
Lala, the curious and ever-eager monkey, had expressed her interest in cooking the night before. She saw how effortlessly Thuy whipped up delicious meals, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Me help cook tomorrow?” she had asked, tilting her head and patting her belly. Thuy chuckled and agreed, not expecting just how funny and chaotic things would get.
As the clock struck 8:00 a.m., Thuy was already chopping vegetables for a simple stir-fry. Lala peeked from the doorway, eyes wide and hands fidgeting. She clearly wanted to help, but something held her back. She slowly crept into the kitchen, sniffing the ingredients on the counter and looking around nervously. Thuy noticed and said kindly, “Come on, Lala, you said you wanted to help! Let’s start by washing the veggies.”
Lala hesitated for a few seconds before awkwardly picking up a carrot and turning on the faucet. But instead of just rinsing it, she kept rotating it like it was some sort of magic wand, splashing water everywhere. Within seconds, the counter was soaked, and Lala looked at Thuy with a sheepish grin, as if asking, “Was that right?”
Thuy laughed and handed her a towel. “Close enough,” she teased. “Let’s dry it off and move on.”
Next came the chopping. Thuy offered Lala a small plastic knife—safe for her hands—and placed a cucumber in front of her. “Cut like this,” she demonstrated, slicing through the vegetable evenly. Lala nodded vigorously and began her attempt. But instead of holding the cucumber firmly, she poked at it, causing it to roll off the counter and onto the floor. With a surprised squeal, Lala jumped after it, knocking over a small bowl of garlic in the process.
Garlic cloves scattered across the floor like marbles, and Lala tried to collect them with her tiny hands. She looked up at Thuy again, this time more flustered, as if she had let her friend down. But Thuy only laughed harder. “You’re doing great for your first time. Cooking is messy!”
Reassured, Lala stood up and placed the runaway cucumber back on the counter. This time, she held it with both hands and managed to slice a slightly crooked piece. She beamed with pride and held it up for Thuy to see. “Look! Me cut!” she said triumphantly.
Thuy clapped. “Well done! Now let’s cook!”
She heated up the pan and poured in a bit of oil. Lala leaned in too close, trying to get a good look at what was happening. A little sizzle of oil popped up and startled her. She jumped back with a yelp and immediately hid behind Thuy’s leg, peeking out cautiously. “Hot!” she exclaimed, eyes wide.
“Yes, it’s hot,” Thuy giggled, patting Lala’s head. “That’s why I cook this part, and you stir.”
Stirring seemed safe enough for Lala. She took the wooden spoon and gave the vegetables a tentative stir. It went well for a few seconds—until she got a little too enthusiastic and flicked a piece of bell pepper out of the pan. It hit the wall with a soft splat and slid down like a sad pancake. Lala looked horrified, then started laughing uncontrollably. Thuy couldn’t help but laugh too.
“Let’s just say that bell pepper wanted freedom,” Thuy joked.
Lala grew more confident as the cooking continued. She danced in between each task, occasionally drumming on the counter or humming as she stirred. Her energy was contagious, and even though she made mistakes, her joy brought lightness to the kitchen. When it came time to taste-test the dish, Thuy offered her a spoonful. Lala nodded with approval and quickly motioned for more.
After plating the food, they sat together on the floor, savoring their creation. “Lala,” Thuy said, smiling warmly, “you really did help. Maybe not perfectly, but your heart was in it.”
Lala beamed, her face smeared slightly with sauce. “Me cook! Me helper!”
From that day on, Lala was a regular in the kitchen. She still made plenty of blunders—spilling flour, mistaking salt for sugar, and once trying to toast bread with a hairdryer—but she always brought laughter and life to the space. Thuy learned to be patient, and together they made memories that were more meaningful than any perfectly cooked meal.
Their kitchen sessions became a daily ritual. Neighbors even dropped by occasionally, drawn by the smell of food and the sound of giggles. Lala would wave proudly, covered in bits of dough or with a spoon stuck behind her ear, and everyone adored her enthusiasm.
One day, Thuy invited a few friends over for lunch and let Lala take the lead. This time, Lala stepped into the kitchen confidently. She washed vegetables (with only minimal splashing), stirred the soup without flinging any ingredients across the room, and even managed to plate the food neatly. Her progress was clear, and Thuy couldn’t have been prouder.
As they sat down to eat, Thuy raised a glass of juice and made a toast: “To my amazing little chef, Lala. You didn’t just help cook—you made it fun.”
Lala raised her cup and shouted, “To cook! To food! To fun!”
The room erupted in laughter.
Though it had started with Lala struggling to take the initiative and stumbling through the steps, she had turned the experience into something joyful. Her mistakes didn’t matter. What mattered was her spirit, her effort, and her infectious laughter that made every kitchen session feel like a party.
So, if you ever find yourself struggling to start something new, remember Lala. She didn’t get it right the first time—or the second, or even the third—but she tried, she laughed, and she never gave up. And in doing so, she brought happiness to everyone around her.
The kitchen was never the same again—and neither was Thuy’s heart.
