The sun was barely up when Farmer CUTIS rolled out of bed, his hair a tangled mess and his eyes still half-closed. Beside him, Baby Monkey Lulu was curled up on a pile of blankets, snoring softly. CUTIS stretched, yawned, and looked at the clock. It was Saturday—his so-called “day off.”
But both CUTIS and Lulu knew what Saturday mornings meant: Mom’s experimental cooking.
It wasn’t that Mom didn’t try. She was enthusiastic, creative… too creative. Last week, she had made “banana-and-garlic pancakes.” The week before, “fish soup with strawberry jam.” CUTIS still shuddered when he remembered Lulu’s horrified face at the first sip.
This week, she had been whispering about “something special” for breakfast. That usually meant danger.
From the kitchen came a clatter of pans and the faint smell of boiled cabbage mixed with… was that… cinnamon? Lulu’s eyes popped open. She sniffed the air, gagged dramatically, and dove under the blanket.
CUTIS whispered, “We can’t eat that.”
Lulu peeked out, ears twitching. Eee-eee-eee! (Translation: “We need a plan. Fast.”)
They tiptoed to the window, peering out into the yard. The sun was rising over the cornfield. The air smelled fresh—completely opposite of whatever Mom was cooking inside.
“Alright,” CUTIS said, scratching his head. “We’ll tell Mom we have an emergency job in the barn.”
Lulu shook her head vigorously. Mom was too sharp for excuses. Last time they tried “urgent barn repairs,” she followed them—carrying bowls of “seaweed oatmeal” for them to eat while they worked.
This had to be foolproof.
Then Lulu’s eyes lit up. She jumped onto CUTIS’s shoulder and pointed at the old wooden cart by the fence. CUTIS grinned. “A picnic!”
It was brilliant. If they made it look like a sweet little outdoor breakfast for Mom, she’d be so touched she wouldn’t suspect they were actually avoiding her cooking.
They sprang into action. CUTIS grabbed a basket and began stuffing it with anything edible that wasn’t currently in Mom’s pot. Fresh bread from yesterday. Apples. Cheese. A jar of honey. Even some peanuts for Lulu.
Meanwhile, Lulu was running around the yard, dragging a blanket to the perfect picnic spot under the big oak tree. She arranged wildflowers in a jar, set out cups, and even brought a thermos of tea.
CUTIS snuck back into the kitchen to grab spoons—and froze. Mom was at the stove, stirring something thick and green.
“Oh, good! You’re up!” she said brightly. “I’m making my new special: Spinach-Basil-Peanut Butter Porridge!”
CUTIS’s smile wobbled. “Sounds… amazing, Mom. But we… uh… thought we’d surprise you today!”
Mom blinked. “Surprise me?”
“Yes!” CUTIS gestured vaguely toward the window. “We set up a… uh… breakfast picnic outside! Fresh air, sunshine, you know…”
Mom’s eyes softened. “Oh, that’s lovely, dear.” She reached for a ladle. “I’ll just bring my porridge out so we can all—”
“No!” CUTIS blurted. Lulu, who had followed him in, leapt dramatically onto Mom’s leg and began tugging her toward the door.
CUTIS stammered, “We… we want it to be a surprise for you. No cooking required! Just come and sit. Please.”
Mom laughed, wiping her hands on her apron. “Alright, alright. You two win.”
Out under the oak tree, the picnic looked perfect. The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the blanket. The basket was open, the bread and cheese neatly arranged.
Mom’s eyes widened. “Oh my… you two did all this for me?”
CUTIS smiled sheepishly. “Well, Lulu helped a lot.”
Lulu puffed out her chest proudly.
They sat down together, and Mom seemed to genuinely enjoy the food. CUTIS and Lulu relaxed—mission accomplished. No spinach-basil-peanut butter disaster today.
But just as CUTIS was taking a bite of bread, Mom said, “You know… I still have a whole pot of porridge inside. Maybe we could have it for lunch!”
Lulu nearly choked on her peanut. CUTIS’s eyes darted to Lulu’s—Plan B was needed.
Plan B involved distraction.
CUTIS suddenly gasped. “Mom! The ducks are in the vegetable patch!”
Mom jumped up, alarmed. “Oh no!” and hurried toward the garden.
As soon as she was gone, Lulu scampered into the kitchen. With the skill of a tiny furry ninja, she carefully carried the pot of green porridge out to the back fence. CUTIS was waiting with a bucket of chicken feed. They dumped the porridge into the chicken trough and scattered grain on top.
The chickens didn’t hesitate—they pecked at the strange mixture like it was a royal feast. Lulu and CUTIS high-fived.
When Mom came back, slightly out of breath, she said, “Crisis averted. Ducks are fine. Where’s the porridge?”
CUTIS shrugged innocently. “Oh… I think the chickens found it.”
Mom blinked, then laughed so hard she nearly cried. “Well, I suppose they need their vegetables too.”
The rest of the day was blissfully porridge-free. CUTIS and Lulu worked in the garden, chased butterflies, and even took a nap in the shade.
But that evening, as they came in for dinner, they caught the unmistakable smell of… something unusual.
Mom smiled sweetly. “I’m trying a new recipe for tomorrow morning—Cabbage-Banana Curry!”
CUTIS and Lulu exchanged a look.
The planning for tomorrow’s escape had already begun.
Epilogue
In the weeks that followed, CUTIS and Lulu perfected their strategies:
- Picnic Trick – Works best on sunny mornings.
- Animal Emergency – Ducks, goats, or even imaginary foxes in the henhouse.
- Trade Deal – Offer to make their special dish instead. Lulu’s peanut-honey toast became legendary.
Mom still experimented in the kitchen, but she also started joining in on their outdoor meals. And, surprisingly, sometimes she actually made things they enjoyed—like apple pie or sweet corn fritters.
But when she brought out the “beetroot-and-coconut soup,” CUTIS and Lulu quietly grabbed their picnic basket and headed for the oak tree.
Some traditions are worth keeping.
