Pina was the apple of her mother's eye, never having to lift a finger. She was always surrounded by everything she desired, her life a picture of comfort and ease. "Mother, can I have the new doll I saw yesterday?" she asked with a spoiled pout, knowing the answer would be yes.

Pina's Mother called out weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pina, dear, could you please make some porridge for me?" Her illness had sapped her strength, leaving her unable to care for herself. The request hung in the air, heavy with expectation and love.

Pina frowned, looking around the kitchen with disdain. "I can't find the ladle, Mother. I won't cook without it," she declared, her voice echoing with defiance. The thought of searching for anything was beneath her, and she had never been taught to fend for herself.

Pina's Mother cried out in exasperation, her words sharp and filled with hurt. "Oh, you lazy child! I hope you grow a thousand eyes so you’ll find things!" The curse was uttered in a moment of desperation, not truly meant but charged with emotion.

Pina's Mother shared the tale of the fruit with her neighbors, her voice tinged with sadness. "From now on, we shall call this fruit 'pinya,' after my daughter, Pina," she said, acknowledging the lesson that had come too late. The fruit served as a reminder of the perils of laziness and the importance of responsibility, a legacy of her daughter's transformation.