Every morning, as the sun cast its golden rays over the little house at the edge of the forest, Mommy prepared for a routine that was anything but routine—bath time for Jerry. Little Jerry, now quite the mischievous one-year-old, had a particular aversion to this daily ritual, especially when it came to shampoo. The family had a water well outside their house, This was where bath time took place. The well was usually a peaceful spot, with the gentle sounds of water flowing and birds chirping. But on bath days, it became a battleground of bubbles and splashes.
Mommy had already filled a big tub with water from the well and added a few drops of mild shampoo. As she carried Jerry to the tub, he wriggled and squirmed, his tiny arms flailing in protest.
“No, Mommy! No shampoo!” Jerry shrieked, his little face scrunched up in disgust. He hated the smell of the shampoo, the way it foamed, and especially the way it made his fur feel slippery.
Mommy ever patient and understanding, tried to calm him down. “Jerry, it’s just a bit of shampoo. It’ll make you clean and smell nice. Look, Mommy will wash you quickly.”
But Jerry had other plans. As soon as he was placed into the tub, he started a frenzy of splashing. Water flew in all directions, soaking Mommy nearby flowers, and even a curious squirrel who had come to investigate the commotion.
Jerry’s protests grew louder as Mommy gently tried to apply the shampoo. He kicked his legs and swatted at her hands, his tiny teeth clenching as he let out a series of indignant squeals. “No, no, no!” he cried, trying to climb out of the tub.
The more Jerry struggled, the messier the situation became. Shampoo suds mixed with water, creating a slippery, soapy mess that made it hard for Mommy to keep a hold of her wiggly little one. She sighed, knowing this was just another part of Jerry’s bath time routine.
Despite the chaos, Mommy remained calm. She used a gentle voice to soothe him, occasionally pausing to wipe water and shampoo from her face. “Jerry, please. If you calm down, we’ll be done in no time.”
Jerry, caught up in his own bubble of frustration, didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, he continued to splash and squirm, his little tantrum a whirl of bubbles and noise. At one point, he even grabbed a handful of water and threw it directly at Mommy face, causing her to burst into a fit of giggles.
The sight of his mother laughing seemed to break through Jerry’s irritation. He paused, watching her with wide, curious eyes. Slowly, his splashing lessened, and his cries turned into a softer murmur. Mommy Monkey took this as a good sign and continued with the shampooing, carefully scrubbing and rinsing while avoiding Jerry’s tiny, flailing arms.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bath was over. Mommy Monkey lifted Jerry out of the tub and wrapped him in a fluffy towel. Jerry, now somewhat calmer and feeling the warmth of the towel, nestled against his mother’s chest. He let out a contented sigh, realizing that the ordeal wasn’t as terrible as he’d thought.
Mommy Monkey chuckled softly, gently drying Jerry’s fur. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Jerry looked up at her with a small, sheepish smile. “Maybe not,” he admitted, though he still had a glint of mischief in his eyes.
With Jerry finally clean and a bit more cooperative, the two headed back to the house. The morning sun continued to shine, and the well once again returned to its serene state, ready for the next day’s adventure. Mommy Monkey, though slightly drenched and tired, felt a sense of accomplishment. Another bath time had come and gone, and Jerry had survived—spoiled but squeaky clean.
