Long ago in Gokul, little Krishna had grown a little bigger. He had learned to walk, to run, and to do one other thing very well — steal butter.
According to the Bhagavata Purana, Krishna would go with his friends to the homes of the village women. The gopis kept their butter in tall clay pots hung high above reach. Krishna and his friends would climb on top of each other, crack open the pots, eat the butter themselves, and share the rest with their little gang.
The gopis were at their wits' end. They would go to Yashoda and complain — 'Maiya, your Kanhaiya has eaten our butter again!' Yashoda would smile, then go looking for Krishna.
One day Yashoda actually caught Krishna in the act, his hands deep in the butter pot. She scolded him — 'Kanhaiya! Why did you take the butter?' Krishna looked up with wide eyes. 'I didn't, Ma.' Butter was smeared all over his lips.
Yashoda grabbed him and reached for a rope. She was going to tie him to the grinding stone. But the strangest thing kept happening — the rope was always two fingers too short. No matter how much rope she added, it was always two fingers short. Yashoda laughed and added more rope, laughed and added more.
The Bhagavata Purana tells us that when Krishna saw his mother tiring, he let her tie the knot. But just then he opened his mouth wide. Yashoda looked in — and inside that small mouth she saw the entire universe. The sky, rivers, mountains, stars — everything that has ever existed.
Yashoda's eyes went wide. Then, as if a gentle veil fell over her mind, she forgot what she had seen. She looked again and saw only her little Kanhaiya — butter on his lips, looking up at her with innocent eyes.
Yashoda pulled him close and held him tight. The gopis laughed. The question of whose butter was stolen drifted away like smoke.