It was a sunny morning, and baby monkey Harry had just finished his refreshing bath. At five months old, Harry was still adjusting to his mom’s routines, which always ended with him smelling fresh and clean. His tiny body was now glistening in the sunlight as his mom wrapped him snugly in a soft towel before placing him on the wooden table in the yard. This table was his usual spot for post-bath pampering, where his mom would take her time to powder him, dress him, and ensure he was comfortable.
Harry, however, had other plans this time. As soon as his mom placed him on the table and began preparing his lotion and baby powder, Harry sat with an air of impatience. His little face puckered into an expression of mild irritation, and then, much to his mom’s surprise, he began scratching himself—particularly on his private area.
The itch seemed to have taken over his tiny world, and Harry’s scratching became more determined. His little hands moved with surprising vigor as he bent forward, his head almost touching the table while his legs splayed awkwardly. His mom, busy with her preparations, glanced at him and couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight. Harry’s unusual gesture—a combination of bending, scratching, and twisting—was both comical and puzzling.
“Harry, what are you doing?” she asked, her tone a mix of amusement and concern. But Harry was too focused on his task to respond. His tiny tail twitched with every movement, and his soft squeaks of frustration filled the yard. The gentle morning breeze rustled the nearby banana leaves, and a few sparrows chirped as if commenting on Harry’s peculiar antics.
Mom quickly approached him, setting down the lotion and powder. She gently took his hands away, inspecting the area he had been scratching. There was no redness or visible irritation, but she suspected that perhaps some soap residue had been left behind. Harry, however, seemed unconvinced that the scratching session was over. The moment she let go of his hands, he resumed his antics, this time adding a little bounce to his seated position.
“Harry, stop that! You’re going to hurt yourself,” his mom scolded lightly, though her laughter betrayed her serious tone. She decided it was time for a thorough check. Holding Harry gently but firmly, she fetched a damp cloth and cleaned him again. Harry protested with a series of high-pitched squeals, flailing his arms and legs in exaggerated resistance. But once the cleaning was done, he seemed to calm down slightly.
Satisfied that the issue was resolved, Mom went back to her preparations. She picked up the baby powder and began applying it to Harry’s soft fur. Harry, however, wasn’t done making the moment memorable. As soon as the powder puff touched his belly, he let out a delighted giggle and threw himself backward, almost falling off the table. His mom caught him just in time, her heart racing.
“Harry, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” she muttered, holding him close for a moment before setting him upright again. Harry seemed unfazed by the close call. Instead, he leaned forward and grabbed the powder puff from her hand, attempting to powder himself. The result was a small cloud of white dust that settled on his nose and made him sneeze. His mom couldn’t help but laugh as Harry blinked in surprise, his tiny face now dusted with powder.
The rest of the grooming session went more smoothly. Once Harry was fully powdered and dressed in a light blue outfit, he looked like a little doll sitting on the table. His earlier frustration seemed forgotten as he gazed around the yard, his big, curious eyes taking in the sights and sounds. His mom sat next to him, relieved that the post-bath drama was over for now.
As the morning wore on, Harry’s mom couldn’t help but chuckle every time she thought about his strange gesture. Life with Harry was always full of surprises, and moments like these made every day special. She knew that as he grew, there would be even more antics to laugh about and cherish. For now, though, she was content to enjoy the peaceful morning with her little monkey, who was already plotting his next mischief.
