In the ancient village of Gokul, there lived a little boy named Krishna. He had beautiful dark skin, curly hair, and the most mischievous smile in the whole village.

Krishna’s mother, Yashoda, made the freshest butter every morning. She would churn the curd until golden butter formed on top. But every day, the butter would disappear!

“Krishna! Did you eat the butter again?” Yashoda would ask.

Krishna would open his big eyes wide and say innocently, “Me? No, Maa! I didn’t touch the butter!”

But his face was covered in butter marks! His tiny fingerprints were on the butter pot! And his friends — the gopas and gopis — would giggle behind him.

The truth was, Krishna and his friends had a secret plan. The butter pots were kept on high shelves. So Krishna would stand on his friends’ shoulders, reach the pot, and share the butter with everyone — even the monkeys!

One day, Yashoda decided to catch him. She hid behind a curtain and watched. Sure enough, Krishna climbed on a friend’s shoulders, reached the butter pot, and began eating!

“Caught you!” shouted Yashoda, jumping out.

Krishna tried to run, but Yashoda was faster. She caught him and tied him to a heavy stone mortar with a rope.

“You naughty boy! Stay here until you learn your lesson!” she said, pretending to be angry. But inside, she was smiling. How could anyone be truly angry at such an adorable child?

Krishna sat by the mortar, butter still on his cheeks, and smiled his magical smile.

The village women came and laughed. “Yashoda, you can’t stop this butter thief! He is too clever and too cute!”

Even today, people remember little Krishna’s butter adventures with love. In temples across India, butter is offered to Krishna as prasad — because the God who created the universe loved nothing more than his mother’s homemade butter!