Milo's Lazy Day

(As told by Milo the Mouse)

Alright, listen up, because I don’t take days off often. Gathering, planning, surviving—it’s a full-time job when you’re a mouse. But today? Today, I am officially off duty. No acorn hoarding. No last-minute supply runs. No dodging predators in the moonlight. Just me, my oversized bathrobe, and a perfectly warm cup of hazelnut latte.

The day started just as it should—with absolutely no alarms. No birds chirping too loudly, no unexpected knocks on the burrow door. Just the soft hum of the forest and the distant rustle of leaves. I stretched, wrapped myself in my robe (which, might I add, is comically large but incredibly cozy), and shuffled over to my little stovetop to heat up some oat milk for my latte.

Just as I was about to take my first glorious sip, there was a knock at the door. A knock. On my day off.

I froze, staring at my mug like it might disappear if I looked away. Maybe if I stayed perfectly still, whoever it was would assume I wasn’t home. But the knocking continued, followed by the unmistakable voice of Scout the Squirrel.

“Milo! Hey, buddy! Open up, I got a brilliant idea.”

I sighed. I should have known. Scout’s brilliant ideas usually involved either stealing snacks or elaborate schemes to steal snacks.

“Milo, c’mon! I know you’re in there. I can smell your latte through the door.”

Drat. I had forgotten about Scout’s alarmingly strong sense of smell.

I cracked the door open just a sliver. “Scout. My dear, energetic friend. What part of ‘day off’ do you not understand?”

He grinned. “Oh, I totally get it. But hear me out—what if we took your day off to the next level? I’m talking hammocks, sunbathing, and a snack basket that mysteriously appeared from a picnic up the hill.”

I gave him my best disapproving mouse stare. “Scout, are you suggesting we steal a picnic?”

Scout put a paw to his chest, feigning innocence. “Steal? No, no, Milo. Redistribute. Think about it—who needs an entire basket of snacks when they could just have some snacks? Sharing is caring.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I’m not going on a snack heist with you, Scout. Today is about peace. Solitude. Not getting chased by angry campers.”

He pouted but, to my surprise, nodded. “Alright, alright. You enjoy your fancy latte. I’ll just go have an adventure all by myself. In the wild. Alone. Where it’s dangerous.” He sighed dramatically. “A shame, really.”

I gave him a long look. “Scout.”

“Yes, Milo?”

“…Do you want a latte?”

His tail perked up. “Do I?! Milo, you are a vision of hospitality!”

And that’s how my peaceful, solitary morning turned into a cozy, two-critter latte party. I mean, I could have turned Scout away, but let’s be honest—he would have just found a way back in through the window.

So we sat, sipping our lattes, wrapped in our respective cozy layers—Scout rambling about his next big adventure, me half-listening, half-basking in the simple joy of a day with no responsibilities.

And honestly? Not a bad way to spend a day off. ☕🐭🍂