The baby monkey knew something was wrong the moment he was picked up a little earlier than usual.
Normally, mornings were slow and predictable. He would cling sleepily to warm fur, blink at the light, and complain softly until breakfast appeared. But today, the air felt different. There was a faint sound nearby—soft splashing—and a smell he didn’t recognize. Clean. Too clean.
His tiny fingers tightened their grip.
Uh-oh.
The baby monkey twisted his head and spotted it: the bath. A small tub, water gently rippling inside, steam rising just enough to say warm but suspicious. His eyes widened instantly. His ears flattened. His body stiffened like a statue carved from pure refusal.
No.
Absolutely not.
He let out a sharp squeak, the kind that clearly meant, Put me down right now. His legs kicked in protest as he tried to climb higher onto Mom’s shoulder, burying his face into her neck like if he couldn’t see the bath, the bath couldn’t see him.
Mom sighed softly, already knowing this wouldn’t be easy. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “Just a little bath.”
The baby monkey did not believe her.
He peeked out again, just one eye, checking if the tub was still there.
It was.
He squeaked louder this time.
Mom lowered him slowly, carefully, hoping a gentle approach would help. The baby monkey reached out desperately, grabbing at anything—fur, fabric, air—his fingers scrabbling as if the ground itself had betrayed him.
When his toes touched the edge of the tub, he froze.
His eyes locked onto the water.
It moved.
That was unacceptable.
He pulled his feet back instantly and clung to Mom’s arm with surprising strength for someone so small. His whole body trembled, not from fear exactly, but from outrage. How dare this happen to him so early in the day?
“No bath,” his squeaks seemed to say. “No bath ever again.”
Mom paused. She didn’t force him in. She waited, holding him securely, letting him calm down. The baby monkey took this moment to plead his case. He squeaked, chirped, and even gave a dramatic little whine for extra effect.
Surely that would work.
It almost did.
But then Mom gently dipped one finger into the water and let a few drops touch his foot.
The baby monkey gasped.
His foot was wet.
WET.
He yanked it back instantly and shook it furiously, as if trying to fling the water off through sheer determination. He stared at his toes in horror, then looked up at Mom with the most betrayed expression imaginable.
Why would you do this to me?
Mom smiled sympathetically. “See? It’s warm.”
The baby monkey did not care about warm.
He kicked again, tail flicking wildly, and tried to climb up Mom’s arm like a tree. His movements were frantic but clumsy, his panic more dramatic than dangerous. Every part of him screamed resistance.
The bath was the enemy.
Dad appeared nearby, watching the scene with amusement. “He really doesn’t want it today,” he said.
The baby monkey spotted Dad and immediately reached toward him, arms outstretched in a clear request for rescue. Dad leaned in, and for a moment, hope sparked in the baby monkey’s eyes.
Saved?
Nope.
Dad gently touched the water too, splashing it lightly so it made a soft, friendly sound. The baby monkey watched the ripples spread and froze again, conflicted. The water didn’t attack. It didn’t roar. It just… existed.
Still suspicious.
Mom slowly lowered him again, this time letting only his feet touch the water. The baby monkey screamed internally. His feet went rigid, toes curled, body leaning backward as far as possible without falling.
Then something unexpected happened.
The water felt… nice.
Not scary nice. Just warm. Gentle. Like sitting in sunlight after being cold. The baby monkey stopped kicking for half a second, confused by his own lack of terror.
He stared down at the water touching his feet.
Nothing bad happened.
He stood there, wobbling slightly, breathing fast, waiting for disaster.
Still nothing.
Mom took advantage of this tiny pause and lowered him just a bit more, until the water reached his legs. The baby monkey tensed again, ready to protest—but the panic didn’t return as strongly as before.
Instead, curiosity crept in.
He moved one foot slightly, watching the water ripple. He lifted it and set it back down. The water responded every time, dancing around him. His fear softened into suspicion, then into interest.
He made a small, uncertain sound.
Mom smiled. “That’s it. You’re okay.”
The baby monkey didn’t fully relax, but he stopped fighting. He allowed himself to be supported, leaning back slightly against Mom’s hand. His breathing slowed. His eyes followed the movement of the water, fascinated despite himself.
A soft cloth touched his arm.
He flinched—but only a little.
The cloth was warm too. Gentle. It wiped away dirt from his fur, and somehow, that felt… relieving. The baby monkey sighed quietly, the tension melting from his shoulders.
He didn’t like the bath.
But maybe he didn’t hate it either.
He splashed accidentally once, jerking his hand back in surprise, then stared at the water droplets clinging to his fingers. He touched them with his other hand, confused and intrigued.
He did it again.
Splash.
This time, he made the water move on purpose.
Oh.
That changed things.
He forgot, briefly, that this had started as a protest. He leaned forward, splashing softly, watching the ripples spread and disappear. His earlier screams were replaced with quiet chirps of curiosity.
The bath continued calmly now. Mom washed him gently, never rushing, never forcing. The baby monkey allowed it, still alert but no longer panicked. He even leaned into the warmth at times, eyes half-closed.
When it was finally over, he was lifted out and wrapped in a soft towel. The sudden absence of water surprised him. He blinked, then relaxed instantly as the towel dried his fur and hugged his small body.
Now this he liked.
He cuddled into Mom, exhausted from emotions alone. His earlier resistance seemed like a distant memory. Clean, warm, and safe, the baby monkey rested his head and let out a tiny, content sound.
He still didn’t want to take a bath.
But he had survived it.
And tomorrow?
Well… tomorrow he might protest again.
Just in case. 🐒🛁💛
