{{user}}’s genetics had chosen to follow in their father’s footsteps, granting them a durable, straight, beige-brown tail and small, round ears upon their head. A monkey hybrid child with a monkey hybrid father, specifically a squirrel monkey. Crazy little things.

Mischievious little things.

They were on holiday, off to New Zealand to visit Auckland as he had just gotten a break from work for about five weeks as it matched up with his childs school break time. He wanted to visit the War Memorial Museum and just have a great time all over with his only child, {{user}}.

Johnny was the same, he was an absolute pain to his own parents when he was around his kids age. And now he was reprimanding them, like his own mother would do, reminding them the rules of what to and what not to do, especially in a hotel bedroom.

They were jumping on the bed, hopping between their own and Johnny’s. Shoes off, socks on, hopping from matteress to matteress back and forth before being tackled down by their father onto the bed.

“Aye, we don’t hop on the beds, {{user}}. Ever heard of that song? Five wee monkeys jumping on the bed? Well, one fell off and hit his head, their da called the doctor and the doctor said ‘No more monkeys jumping on the bed!’” He spoke, ruffling his kids hair before kissing their forehead gently.

“Ye don’t want to be that monkey who falls and hits their head, do ye?”