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Snow Monkeys, Macaca (Macaca fuscata) (Japanse makaak) in het Jigokudani Monkey Park, nabij Nagano in Japan ….Hosh dreams of the five little monkeys, constantly jumping off the bed and bumping their heads, when Rosh teaches Hosh counting, by singing an old nursery rhyme ...

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“Story!” commanded Hosh.

“No story,” said Rosh. “I’m tired.”

Hosh climbed up on his father’s head.

“Story!” he demanded.

Rosh pulled him down, bundled him up and nailed him down on the bed under his thighs.

“No story today,” he growled. “Pa is tired.”

Hosh pulled and pushed, and after a mammoth effort finally wriggled out from underneath his father’s thigh.

He jumped on Rosh’s back and lay on him, hugging him as tightly as he could.

“Storyy!” he insisted.

“Nope,” Rosh waved his finger feebly, but his resistance was melting away.

“Storyyy!” Hosh asked again, whispering in his father’s ear.

Rosh loved it when his little son climbed up on his back. But he really was tired.

“No more stories,” he said with a stern face, pulling Hosh down from his back and nailing him again under his arm. “And did you learn your numbers today?”

Hosh shook his head mischievously. He wrestled away from under the arm and ran out of his father' reach. He was in no mood to learn now.

He only saw his father for a few minutes every night now. As far as he was concerned, that was his play time, not study time.

“Storyyyy...!” he pleaded, tilting his little head at a funny angle. “Please papppa...!”

Rosh laughed at his antics.

“Come here, you monkey,” he got up and chased after his son in the little room, catching him easily. “I’ll tell you a story.”

“I’ll tell you a story about five monkeys. Five little monkeys as naughty as you. Five little monkeys that were always jumping on the bed.”

They hopped back on the bed together, laughing and happy. Rosh held up his hand, all five fingers outstretched.

“Those are five monkeys,” he said. “How many monkeys are here?”

“Those are fingers!” Hosh shot back. “Not monkeys!”

“Pretend they are monkeys,” Rosh said. “Now how many are there?”

“Five?” came the tentative reply.

“Yup,” said Rosh. He hummed an old nursery rhyme. The words came slowly back to him. He sang them for his son:

Five little monkeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head.
Mama called the doctor, and the doctor said
No more monkeys jumping on the bed

Hosh shook his little head with the rhythm. This was fun. Rosh dropped down a finger in his outstretched hand. Four still remained upright.

“One monkey’s fallen off the bed now,” he said. “See, there’s only four left. How many are left?”

“Four,” came the reply.

“Yup,” said Rosh, and sang again:

Four little monkeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Mama called the doctor, and the doctor said
No more monkeys jumping on the bed

Hosh was beginning to clap along now. Rosh dropped down another finger in his outstretched hand.

“That’s three,” he said, and asked again, “how many is that?”

“Three,” said Hosh.

“Yuup,” said Rosh, and sang again:

Three little monkeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Mama called the doctor, and the doctor said
No more monkeys jumping on the bed

Hosh clapped along with his tiny little hands. Rosh dropped down yet another finger in his outstretched hand.

“That’s two,” he said, and asked his son, “how many is that?”

“Two,” came the cheerful reply.

“Yuuup,” said Rosh, and sang again:

Two little monkeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Mama called the doctor, and the doctor said
No more monkeys jumping on the bed

Hosh was excited now. He guessed what was coming. When Rosh dropped down one more finger in his outstretched hand, he knew how many were left.

“One!” he yelled.

When Rosh nodded happily, Hosh picked up with the song. He sang:

One little monkey jumping on the bed
He fell off and bumped his head
Mama called the doctor, and the doctor said
No more monkeys jumping on the bed

Rosh clapped along enthusiastically. When Hosh had finished, they laughed together happily.

“Do it again, do it again,” Hosh pleaded.

“But there were no more monkeys left on the bed,” said Rosh. “To fall off, and bump their heads.”

“Start again, start again,” said Hosh.

“Okay,” Rosh laughed, and they started from five all over again.


“Do it again, do it again,” Hosh pleaded, when they had finished again.

“Okay,” Rosh laughed and they did it again, this time with Hosh counting on his fingers.

“Once again, once again,” Hosh pleaded. He was having too much fun. He didn’t want it to finish.

“Okay,” Rosh laughed again, “but too much bumping is no good for the monkeys. Doctor’s telling mama to put them all off to bed after this time. Deal?”

“Deal,” promised Hosh.

So they sang again, one last time. And then mama monkey put all the little monkeys right to bed. Hosh dreamt happily of the five little monkeys that night, constantly jumping off the bed and bumping their heads.

Next Story: Female Logic

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