It was a typical busy morning in the house. Milo’s mom had been up early, as usual, organizing and preparing things for the day. She had already swept the floors and was now in the other room, tidying up and gathering items for breakfast. Baby monkey Milo, however, had a very different morning routine in mind. Milo had just woken up. His tiny eyes blinked open as sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. Without waiting for his usual morning cleaning, he rolled out of bed, yawned, and stumbled toward the kitchen. His fur was still a bit messy from sleep, and his face was marked with the remnants of yesterday’s adventures.
Curious and playful, as always, Milo had an urge to explore the kitchen—a place where so many interesting things happened. The aroma of fresh fruits, the clinking of pots and pans, and the promise of mischief called to him. Today, something special caught his eye: a bucket of charcoal stacked near the stove, left over from last night’s cooking.
Without a second thought, Milo plopped himself right down next to it. His tiny hands reached out, grasping the blackened chunks of charcoal. It was rough and powdery, and in a matter of seconds, his hands were covered in soot. Milo’s face lit up with excitement. With his little fingers, he began drawing patterns on the floor, not realizing that each swipe left a trail of charcoal dust behind.
Soon, Milo’s entire body was involved in his playful creation. He wriggled and rolled around, leaving streaks of charcoal across his face, belly, and even his tail. His fur, once soft and brown, now looked like a patchy mess of black smudges. He giggled to himself, completely unaware of the chaos he was causing.
Meanwhile, his mom was still in the other room, blissfully unaware of Milo’s latest mischief. She hummed softly to herself as she wiped the table and set out breakfast ingredients. It wasn’t until she heard a peculiar rustling sound from the kitchen that her attention shifted.
“Milo?” she called out, her voice laced with curiosity. “What are you up to?”
There was no response—just a tiny giggle from behind the stove. Suspicious, she quickly walked into the kitchen, only to be met with a sight that stopped her in her tracks.
“MILO!” she burst out, her voice rising in disbelief.
There, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, was her precious baby monkey, now completely covered in charcoal from head to toe. His face had dark black smudges, his little hands were coated, and even his belly was streaked with the black dust. The once-clean kitchen floor was now a canvas of charcoal, with handprints and streaks everywhere.
Milo, hearing his mom’s loud voice, looked up with wide eyes, his face a perfect picture of innocence. He held up a small piece of charcoal as if to show her his latest discovery. He had no idea why she was so surprised!
“Milo, why are you playing here?!” she exclaimed, shaking her head with both frustration and amusement. She couldn’t help but chuckle at how silly he looked, though her priority now was to clean up the mess.
Sighing, she scooped him up gently, despite his protests. Milo squirmed in her arms, still holding tight to his piece of charcoal, but his mom didn’t let go. She carried him straight to the wash basin, where she grabbed a cloth and began wiping away the charcoal from his fur.
Milo pouted as the cool water washed over him, but soon enough, the smudges faded, and his soft brown fur reappeared underneath. His mom patiently cleaned every inch of him, wiping away the last bits of charcoal from his ears and face.
“There you go, all clean again,” she said with a satisfied smile, drying him off with a soft towel.
Milo, now back to his clean self, wriggled out of her arms and ran off, ready for his next adventure. His mom could only laugh as she watched him dart away, knowing there would surely be more mischief in store.
