The first rays of sunlight pierce through the canopy, signaling a new day in the forest. For most of the troop, mornings mean grooming, foraging, and warming themselves in the gentle glow of dawn. But for one tiny baby monkey named Luca, mornings mean something else—bath time. And today, he is determined to resist it with all his might.
Luca’s mother knows the importance of keeping her little one clean. A baby’s fur can easily trap dust, insects, or tiny bits of food, and grooming is not just for hygiene—it is an act of bonding. Yet, as she tries to guide Luca toward the stream, his tiny face twists with displeasure. His cries begin softly, then rise into loud, squeaky protests that echo across the trees.
“Eeek! Eeeek!” he wails, clinging tightly to a low branch as though the cool water below were the greatest danger he could face. His mother tugs gently, trying to coax him down, but Luca shakes his head and presses his body even closer to the bark. His refusal is dramatic, almost comical, but very real to him.
The troop turns their heads at the racket. Some juveniles giggle, chattering as if amused by Luca’s tantrum. An older female shakes her head knowingly, remembering when her own babies had done the same. For the little ones, water feels cold, strange, and uncomfortable—yet the mothers are always patient, determined to teach them that cleanliness is part of survival.
Finally, Luca’s mother scoops him up despite his flailing arms. She holds him firmly but gently, ignoring his cries of protest. His small body trembles as they near the stream, his eyes wide with worry. The moment his feet touch the water, Luca lets out a cry so loud that even birds flutter from nearby branches.
But his mother doesn’t scold him. Instead, she grooms him tenderly, dipping her hands into the cool water and smoothing it through his soft fur. Her every movement is calm, reminding him that there is nothing to fear. Slowly, between cries, Luca glances up at her face. Her eyes are steady and filled with love.
As the water trickles down his back, his cries soften into sniffles. His little hands stop pushing her away and instead cling to her arm for reassurance. Though he still shivers from the unfamiliar sensation, his mother’s warmth becomes his comfort. The stream that once seemed frightening now feels safe in her presence.
After a few minutes, the bath is over. Luca is damp, his fur sticking in tiny tufts, but he is clean and refreshed. His mother carries him back to the troop, pausing in the sunlight so he can warm up. Luca buries his face into her chest, tired from the effort of crying but soothed by her patience.
Morning bathing may not be Luca’s favorite ritual, but it is one of the many lessons he must learn. And while he may cry and resist today, one day he will understand that even the things we dislike are often done out of love.
