Cubis woke up with his usual spark of mischief in his eyes. Dad had just finished cleaning the yard, reminding him very clearly: “Cubis, don’t you dare make a mess today!” But rules and Cubis never really went hand in hand. The moment Dad turned his back, Cubis’s little brain began to buzz with ideas.
It didn’t take long for him to spot the forbidden zone—the freshly watered patch of garden where the soil had turned into sticky, squishy mud. To Cubis, it wasn’t dirt, it was paradise! With a cheeky grin, he tiptoed behind the bushes, hiding from Dad’s sharp eyes. The coast was clear.
One leap… and SPLAT! His hands sank right into the mud. Cubis giggled and clapped, sending blobs of dirt flying in every direction. He rolled around, slapped the ground, and even tried to build little “mud cakes.” The more he played, the more he forgot about Dad’s warning. His face, his arms, even his little belly—covered in muddy streaks.
Then came the sound he dreaded: Dad’s footsteps. “Cubis!” The voice boomed through the yard. Cubis froze, eyes wide like a guilty little monkey caught red-handed. Instead of facing the music, he ducked lower into the mud puddle as if hiding there would make him invisible. His tail twitched nervously, his face half-buried, but his giggles gave him away.
When Dad finally spotted him, he stood with hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief. Cubis looked up slowly, mud dripping from his nose, wearing the most innocent expression he could muster—half smile, half plea for forgiveness.
Dad tried to stay angry, but the sight was too ridiculous. With a deep sigh and a laugh he couldn’t hold back, he scooped up the muddy troublemaker. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Cubis,” Dad muttered.
For Cubis, it was worth every second. After all, mud puddles were made for fun—and making Dad laugh, even when he was angry, was Cubis’s greatest talent.
