It was bath day — again. And little Chamroeun, the naughty boy of the troop, was not having it.
Mom walked into the room holding his tiny towel and the familiar soap bottle. But the moment Chamroeun saw them, he bolted behind the chair.
“Nooo!” his eyes screamed, though he didn’t know human words. He grabbed a toy and tried to look busy. Innocent. Distracted.
But the truth was, he stank.
His fur was covered in crumbs from yesterday’s snacks, dirt from rolling outside, and something mysterious stuck to his leg. Even his tail smelled funny. The room had begun to notice.
“Chamroeun!” Mom called sweetly. “It’s just water, baby.”
He peeked out, made a face, and shook his head.
She stepped forward. He darted under the table.
“Chamroeun,” she said again, now serious.
He growled — not out of danger, but pure toddler drama — and clung to the leg of a chair like it would protect him from the terrible horror of a clean body.
But Mom had tricks.
She brought out the tiny fruit-scented soap he secretly liked. She waved it.
His nose twitched.
Still, he resisted — until she whispered, “We can splash.”
That was it. He popped out from hiding, still grumpy, but his little feet shuffled toward the basin.
Ten minutes later, splashes flew everywhere. Laughter filled the room. Chamroeun’s crankiness vanished with the bubbles. He squealed with joy, tail swinging, feet kicking.
Mom gently scrubbed his stinky spots while he giggled and tried to splash her back.
By the end, wrapped in a towel, Chamroeun smelled fresh as a flower.
He leaned into her arms with a happy sigh, already forgetting he ever said no.
