Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Now, bedtime stories have been around for hundreds of years because they can help everyone, adult and child, fall asleep. Think of a bedtime story as a way to distract your mind from its endless thoughts. By listening, you’re allowing your brain to rest as much as your body so you can ease peacefully into sleep.

The story I’m going to tell you tonight is about Reginald, or Reggie, the black dog that looks like a fox. He’s good friends with Amos the field mouse, but he’s also accepted by all the neighboring cats. In this story, he will venture to the barn and speak to a feline with very special skills.

Reggie and the Lightbulb-Shaped Cat

Reggie left through the gate with the aunt and her guest, but he didn’t follow. They were going to feed the crows in the clearing, and Reggie didn’t want to spook the birds with his presence. But also he had an important meeting to attend.

Reggie skirted the forest with pine needles and brush crunching underfoot. He shimmied under a line of bushes that marked the farmer’s property and slinked like the fox he was not, toward a large red barn. The chickens, of course, made a fuss when they spotted him, all cackling and crying at once, even though one of them kept shouting “Quiet, everyone. It’s not a fox. It’s only Reginald.”

Reggie shook his head with a laugh and continued on. In truth, he had a sorted relationship with all birds, not just crows, but the barn cats had never been opposed to him. In fact, they’d made him an honorary member of their society.

Inside the barn all the neighboring cats (strays and pets alike) gathered. They lounged on hay bails or sat with tails twitching on roof beams. Some cleaned their paws and stretched their legs, yawning and waiting for the meeting to begin.

And it did the minute an orange tabby hopped atop a stack of crates. He had a thick body from many delicious farm-to-table meals, but his head was tiny, so much smaller compared to his rounded belly. It made him look like a lightbulb with dainty legs and tail, which is why everyone referred to him as King Watt. It made Reggie giggle to himself as King Watt’s tiny head turned to gaze around at the gathering felines. He wasn’t really a king, but everyone relied on him and voted him as their leader because King Watt had a very special ability.

He was the most persistent cat, in fact the most annoying cat that the farmer had ever met. King Watt woke before the sun to meow for their breakfast. He would sneak into the house and jump atop the farmer’s bed. He’d tickle his nose with the end of his twitching tail, purr into his ear, knead with sharp nails at his forearm, and even bite his fingers if needed. King Watt would do everything possible to wake the farmer so he would get up and feed the animals. Outsiders will tell you that the rooster calls the shots. But no. It is King Watt and his single-minded duty that begins each morning on the farm.

King Watt gazed around the barn, and one of his whiskers twitched before he spoke.

“Thank you all for attending the monthly meeting of the Woodpile Kitty Society.”

All eyes were on King Watt as he spoke of the coming summer, what areas of the farm to avoid as to not upset the other animals and which to frequent often in order to get a snack. He spoke of the coming rain and where to sleep to stay dry. And that if you had fleas, you were to report directly to him to be cared for and quarantined.

“Lastly,” he said. “I have heard from many that the aunt has a guest. But a warning has also been issued that if you do not want to be picked up, do not approach the human.” Reggie spotted Carl, his cat brother who lived with him in the aunt’s house. Carl gave King Watt a satisfying nod as that bit of information was surely provided by himself.

When the meeting was finally adjourned, King Watt leaned against a beam and began cleaning his large belly. Reggie thought it was a wonder he could reach it with such a tiny head.

“Very fine meeting as always,” Reggie said as he approached.

King Watt purred, “Thank you for attending. You all know me as King Watt, but did you know the farmer calls me by a different name? He found me as a kitten amongst some tools and so named me Stanley. We go by different names to different people, but it is what we call ourselves that matters most.”

“Do you call yourself another name?” Reggie asked.

“I call myself Beautiful,” the cat purred. “I call myself Smart. I never refer to myself badly because I love myself so very much.”

Reggie knew the cat was not being arrogant. It is a very wise thing to never put yourself down, even in your own head. But as Reggie left the barn he began to wonder. There must be many magical and mysterious things in the world, even some unknown completely, some things that have no name at all. But does every creature need a name?

When we’re young, we learn words to identify things. A picture book has a four-legged animal and underneath it says, “this is a cow,” but then not every four-legged creature is a cow. We learn words like boy, girl, island, country. We put a name to things so we can communicate with one another.

But sometimes a word can limit our understanding. Sometimes a cat is actually a king, and sometimes a dog acts like a cat, and sometimes a fox wishes only to remain anonymous. What we are called matters little. And how we are viewed by others, namely birds, matters less. It is how we view ourselves and love ourselves that is most important. Reggie left the barn thinking, King Watt may be shaped like a lightbulb, but he is also full of good ideas.

Goodnight.

If you’ve been listening to these, you know that sleep helps our muscles and minds grow. If we don’t sleep, we won’t have energy for all the fun things we’ll do tomorrow. So, I’m going to tell you a story to help quiet that voice inside you that wants to stay awake and avoid this very important thing. As the story continues, you’ll become more comfortable, more relaxed, until you’re deep in a dream-filled slumber.

Close your eyes. Relax your body from your toes to the muscles of your face. Take a deep breath in through your nose and breath out through your mouth. And listen as I tell you a story about a walk through the woods, a chance to feed crows, a story of lazily watching clouds and enjoying the beauty of nature with your favorite aunt.

A Picnic in the Clearing

My aunt and I left her garden with a click of the closing gate. I followed her down a well-worn path through tall pine trees, all the while on the look-out for a hallow log where a timid field mouse might make a home.

Pine needles crunched under our feet, and light streaked across my vision, pulsing in between the many pine trunks. When I looked up, I saw the evergreen limbs reaching toward a blue sky filled with black birds.

We stayed quiet for our walk, breathing in the earthen air, spiced with pine bark and sap until we reached the edge of a clearing, an open space with soft grass that waved a welcome in the gentle breeze. One large oak tree stood at the center of the clearing with branches that spread wide as if trying to touch its wooded neighbors.

We spread our picnic under those reaching limbs, and my aunt pulled a bag of nuts and seeds from her backpack. The black birds I’d seen above were crows that now circled and cawed before landing softly at my aunt’s feet.

The crows snatched the treats, cracking peanut shells with their black beaks. One, having had its fill, lifted and landed on my aunt’s shoulder, making me gasp. I’d never seen a crow so close, let alone one that so clearly trusted humans, or at least my aunt.

“Would you like to feed him?” she asked. The bird cocked its head sideways to look at me with a beady eye.

“Is it…safe?”

My aunt laughed and, to my surprise, so did the crow with a cackling caw.

I stepped close, took a peanut from the bag, and handed it forward. To my surprise again the bird wagged its tail feathers in the same way a dog would wag its tail, happy to get attention. My aunt pet the crow and kissed its beak, before it took off with the peanut.

“How did you get them to do that?” I asked.

We sat on the picnic blanket, and my aunt told me all about befriending and gaining the trust of her crows. She showed me her bird book too and pointed out the other birds I might spy in the clearing.

“I never bring my cellphone when I come to the clearing,” my aunt said. “There’s no reason.”

“Dad won’t let me have one yet,” I grumbled. “Even though all my friends do.”

“Phones can certainly be useful,” she said. “But they can also be a distraction from the world around you. You’ll have one someday, but you’ll also have to be careful that it doesn’t become the only way you see the world. I have an idea. Let’s play a game where we point out all the things we see today that we wouldn’t have if we were only looking at a screen.”

I agreed and set to watching the clearing with a keen eye.

High on one of the pines, my aunt spotted a red-headed woodpecker with black and white wings. She opened her book to its description while the sound of its knocking beak echoed through the forest. My aunt also spotted a cloud that looked like an alligator with its mouth wide open and tail flicking behind him. The wind continued to shape it, making it swallow tiny fish clouds and swish its tail through the blue waters of the sky.

Not long after that, I saw something moving only feet from our blanket. I looked and slowly, oh so quietly, alerted my aunt to what I’d spotted. A tiny chipmunk with a long stripe down its back skittered through the grass. It moved with its belly low until it had reached the spot where the crows had been. The chipmunk picked up the peanuts and seeds the crows had left behind and began stuffing them into its mouth. By the time it was done, its cheeks were puffed to twice their size, and I had to hold in a laugh.

With its mouth now stuffed with food, the chipmunk ran, bounding through the grass to return to its home hidden somewhere in the clearing.

“I think you won.” My aunt giggled and pulled the picnic basket to her, handing me my sandwich and a bag of chips. But before I could even unwrap my lunch, something landed on my arm. I almost jumped but saw it was a blue iridescent dragonfly with black wings, almost as big as my palm! It sat for a moment as if resting and stretching its limbs but seemed to look right at me with its round black eyes before lifting once more.

When I looked up, I realized we were surrounded by dragonflies—ones of bright green, yellow and black tails, bright red bodies with purple eyes—all flittering around us, dancing on the wind.

“They look like fairies,” I said.

“No, the fairies only come out at dawn. But they are beautiful.”

I gave my aunt a questioning look, but she only opened the insulated compartment of her picnic basket and pulled two cold bottles of root beer from inside. She popped open one, letting fizz dribble down the icy glass. Handing it to me, she clanked her own bottle against mine.

“A cheers,” she said. “To befriended crows, hungry chipmunks, cloud dragons and dragon flies. But especially cheers to lazy summer days and quality time with family.”

I took a sip and let the vanilla, licorice bubbles dance along my tongue. My aunt and I both took a deep breath of warm sun-kissed air and leaned back on an arm to eat our picnic with no distractions but the magic of the clearing.

Goodnight.

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

But I’ll admit. Some nights, even when I’m very tired, I have a hard time convincing my mind to rest. I keep thinking about what I need to do tomorrow, who I’ll see, and what will happen. I can’t sleep because I’m spending too much energy worrying. And that’s why, I tell you these stories.

Bedtime stories help distract your mind so that your body can rest. As the story continues, you will become more comfortable, more relaxed, and the worry will slip away as you slip deep into slumber. So, close your eyes, relax your body from your toes to the muscles of your face, and listen as I tell you a story about a big black bird named Mr. Crow who is going to join us on a picnic and who has learned himself that there is no need to worry.

Mr. Crow and the Picnic

Mr. Crow flapped up then let the wind carry him to the great oak tree in the aunt’s backyard. He landed delicately on a branch just outside an opening in the trunk. Inside lived a feisty little squirrel. The squirrel poked his nose from the hole and twitched his whiskers.

Mr. Crow said, “The aunt and her guests are going on a picnic today.”

“I already knew that,” the squirrel said, and Mr. Crow cawed a laugh.

Squirrels can be very smug about their knowledge of activities in the world around them. And they had a right to be. They were usually the first to know things because they had a lot of paws on the ground and eyes in the trees. However, Mr. Crow had wings and could see and travel much farther than any squirrel.

“Would you like me to bring you back a snack?” Mr. Crow asked with a wink.

The squirrel crossed his furry arms and claws across his chest. “I know the aunt feeds you crows in the clearing, but don’t worry about me, friend. We squirrels know how to get extra treats.”

Mr. Crow only smiled and flapped from the branch.

The aunt often took the path that led to the clearing through the pine trees. That’s where he’d first met her. She’d spent weeks every day setting out food and earning the trust of his clan. Although, when humans saw several of his kind, they called it “a murder of crows.”

He and his friends would joke about it on a cold and cloudy October morning as they cawed and circled the nearby silo. “You and I together, brother, we’re a murder of crows.” Their caws would echo to the gray sky, as mist clung heavily to the trees, as the great oak creaked, and porch-stoop pumpkins peered at them with glowing triangle eyes.

It all sounded haunting enough, which is precisely why he couldn’t understand the description.

A murder of crows? Crows were kind creatures who mostly kept to themselves. But if you made friends with a crow, they would remember you for life. And if you proved dangerous, they would remember that too and avoid you. But amongst the creatures living in and out of the aunt’s garden, Mr. Crow had only friends, and to those friends he’d bring shiny gifts and aid whenever they needed it.

A gathering of crows shouldn’t be a “murder,” but rather a “herder,” because they collected the nicest of people and things.

Mr. Crow landed on the aunt’s back fence next to one of those dear friends, a young gnome girl named Bluebell.

“Mom and Dad said I could watch the aunt and her visitor head to their picnic,” Bluebell said, sitting on the fence and swinging her legs over the edge. She wore a blue pointed hat in the gnome fashion, clothes spun from the softest moss, and shoes of rough-sewn leather.

“They’re almost here,” Mr. Crow said and cocked his head at the sound of footsteps, as the aunt and her guest strolled from the garden.

“Can I ask you a question?” the guest asked.

“Of course,” the aunt replied.

“Those little houses” —the human pointed toward Bluebell’s tree-bark home— “Did you build them?”

“Me? Oh no. I am not nearly that skilled. Those belong to the gnomes.”

The guest bit a bottom lip. “But that can’t be. Gnomes aren’t real.”

The aunt paused for a long moment then said, “It is often difficult to decern what is real and what isn’t. Have you ever worried about something?”

“Yes. I worry about not passing tests. I worry that my best friend won’t like me next year.”

“When you worry, you’re thinking about something in the future that hasn’t happened yet. It isn’t real. The only real thing is what’s happening right now, which is spending time with me!” The aunt hugged the smaller human to her side, making them laugh.

“Well, yes, but what does that have to do with gnomes?”

“We humans often get confused about what is real and not real. You worry that your friend won’t like you. Even though that’s ridiculous! But you’re afraid because your brain tells you it’s a real possibility. And yet, even when you see evidence before you, these little homes, you don’t believe in the possibility that gnomes made them?”

“Have you seen them? In the flesh?”

The aunt smiled. “You will only ever see a gnome if they let you. And whether you believe in them or not, I hope you will respect their space.”

As the aunt and her guest left through the back gate, Bluebell looked up at Mr. Crow. “Well of course I’m real,” she said. “But did any of that stuff about worrying make sense to you?”

Mr. Crow cocked his head, pondering the aunt’s words. “I believe the aunt was saying that there is no use worrying about what might happen in the future when there is real friendship and love right now.” He lowered his beak and let Bluebell pet it gently. She looked up to where several other black birds soared across the sky toward the clearing, cawing in excitement.

“You better hurry,” Bluebell said. “You don’t want to miss the aunt’s treats.”

Mr. Crow flapped up to join his friends, but he couldn’t help thinking on the aunt’s words. When he was newly hatched, he worried his mother wouldn’t return with worms. He worried he’d never learn to fly like his siblings. He used to worry about a lot of things, and very few if any ever actually happened.

His worries weren’t real.

So, he’d decided long ago not to think about the future but to spend all his energy on the present, on working hard to feed his family, help his neighbors, and love his friends. And as Mr. Crow approached the clearing where all three gathered, he smiled. His family, his neighbors, and his friends, only those things were worth his attention.

Goodnight.

Note to parents:

Welcome to Tiny Tales Bedtime Stories, a podcast that tells gentle tales to help children of all ages embrace relaxation and sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Tonight’s story is about waking to a yummy breakfast and preparing for a picnic in the woods. Close your eyes and imagine the story as I tell it. Pretend you’re the main character getting to spend time with your favorite aunt.

Pancakes and Picnics

I woke to a stream of soft sunlight coming through my window. For a moment, I forgot where I was. But when I felt the soft sheets under me and didn’t hear my siblings running through the house, I remembered I was spending summer vacation at my aunt’s.

I took a deep breath and stretched my limbs through the blankets, feeling the cold corners of the bed. But as I breathed, I took in the unmistakable smell of breakfast. I’m convinced there is nothing better in life than waking on your own—no school, no plans—and starting the day with a plate of pancakes.

I threw the covers aside and found my slippers beside the bed, right where I’d left them. The insides were like soft clouds, but the outsides had off-white fur that curled in all directions, making them look like little lambs. I shuffled the lambs down the hallway to the kitchen where my aunt stood, stirring eggs and flipping golden pancakes on a skillet.

“Good morning,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

I yawned and told my aunt about a dream I’d had of a little mouse living in a hollow log, no doubt brought on by my aunt’s bedtime story of Reginald and the field mouse. But it also seemed so real. I hoped there was a mouse living in the woods who had as much heart as the mouse I had dreamt of.

My aunt had set the table with two place settings. As I sat, I noticed her dishes for the first time, how none of them matched and yet they did somehow. Every single plate was a different size or shape, but each had vibrantly printed flowers. The one before me had red roses painted around the edge with one single rose blooming in the center. The one before her looked as if pink and yellow wildflowers grew straight up the center. And as my aunt laid the food on the table, I saw that the steaming pile of scrambled eggs was rimmed in tiny bluebells.

The silverware too was all different makes, the forks and knives looking antique with either roses or flowers of some kind molded into their silver handles. But not a single one matched the other.

I skewered two pancakes from a sunflower plate and spread melted butter and warm syrup across their golden surfaces. My aunt poured me a glass of orange juice as she told me her plan for the day.

We were going to have a picnic in the forest behind her house. She said there was a clearing not far from her back gate that had soft grass to lie a blanket and watch the clouds pass. She said she often went there to drink her morning coffee, especially when the birds were migrating.

“I feed my crows there,” she said. “But they may need to get to know you first before they come close. Crows are very wise. And once they know you, good or bad, they never forget you. So, if you decide to feed a crow, be sure to be on your best behavior.”

I took a long drink of cold juice, feeling the sweet but tangy taste of oranges zip along my taste buds. My aunt seemed to enjoy animals quite a bit. She had mentioned the squirrels the previous day, told a story about a field mouse, and even fed crows! But the one thing that still puzzled me was her strange mention of gnomes living in the back garden. I had seen little houses along the fence, but surely, she had constructed them as a kind of decoration.

“If we go to the woods,” I asked, “will we walk through the garden?”

“Of course,” she said.

I nodded thoughtfully and decided I would be sure to ask her about the little houses when we passed them.

With breakfast finished, we set to gathering what we needed for our picnic adventure. My aunt pulled a checkered quilt from the hallway closet.

“This is the official picnic blanket,” she said, showing me the fabric.

It was thick enough to keep the grass from poking through, but light enough to fold neatly into a backpack. Into the bag, she added a small battery powered radio to play soft music from the local station, a tube of sunscreen, and a thick book on birds. I added one of my own books as well, eager to finish the story I had started before my dad dropped me off.

Then it was time to pack the picnic. My aunt pulled a wicker basket from a closet. The inside was lined in red and white checkered fabric with four place settings. Unlike her kitchen set, this one was all matching with plates and cutlery strapped to the lid of the basket and cups in designated holders inside. And while the basket looked like something out of an old movie, there was an insulated compartment into which my aunt placed two ice packs.

She pulled an array of foods from the fridge—meat, cheese, vegetables—and told me I could make any type of sandwich I wanted. I smiled. Mom made me delicious sandwiches for school lunch, but I always picked off the tomatoes, so I was excited to add exactly what I wanted and nothing else.

I layered bread and meat while my aunt packed other things into her wicker basket, telling me she had a couple of surprises and not to look. Finally, we were ready to set out toward the forest clearing. And as we entered her back garden, Reginald the dog (though I swore he looked very much like a fox) followed at our heels.

I put a small bit of cheese in my pocket. I was unsure about the little houses actually belonging to gnomes, but if I saw a log with a hallowed knot, and especially if it had a little chimney letting out smoke, I would leave the cheese for the mouse that lived inside.

Goodnight.

Tonight’s tale continues our adventure visiting our aunt, but you don’t have to listen to the previous episodes. Each story is a unique experience following from the last. The point isn’t to remember the story but to listen and fall asleep. So join me as we have a wonderful breakfast and prepare for a picnic in the woods.

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each episode is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

These bedtime stories are about a summer vacation at our favorite aunt’s house, and it’s ok if you don’t remember the previous stories, because each one is its own adventure. Today’s tale concludes the end of our first full day. We got to eat cake on the porch, explore the garden and feed fish. And we discovered some peculiar tiny homes by the back gate. But now that we’ve had these adventures, even the characters in this story need to sleep.

Dinner and Bedtime

I returned from the garden thinking about the tiny homes I found at the back gate. I very badly wanted to look inside them to explore what lay beyond the little doors and windows. I thought maybe for a moment that they belonged to the gnomes my Aunt mentioned. But I didn’t believe in gnomes. I left a piece of candy on each porch, but even though one disappeared, I was sure it was only taken by a mouse.

I laughed thoughtfully to myself as I made my way back through the garden. If it was a mouse, the rodent kept a very lovely home. And I pictured it drinking tea by a fire and reading a very mousy adventure.

“Did you have a nice stroll?” my aunt asked as I shut the back door. She was cooking a delicious smelling sauce, something white and fragrant.

I didn’t answer her right away as I took off my shoes. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell her about the little homes I’d found, just in case she had been teasing me about the gnomes. So, I spoke instead about the beautiful flowers, the many pathways, and the pond with the fish.

As I spoke, she forked a spiral of long noodles onto two plates then covered them in a ladle of sauce. We sat, using thick slices of crunchy garlic-buttered bread to soak up what Auntie told me was “alfredo.” It was not unlike her Thanksgiving mashed potatoes—rich, creamy, garlicy, cheesy, and delicious.

After dinner, my aunt led me to my room. It was the one my parents had shared during Christmas, with a queen bed, a chest of drawers, a vanity with an oval mirror, and an armchair pulled close to the window.

My aunt told me I would have the hallway bathroom all to myself, and that made me smile. I enjoyed sharing things with my siblings, but I’d never had so much space all to myself. I was excited about putting my things where I wanted and knowing (that unless Carl the cat knocked them over) they would remain where I put them.

I unpacked my clothes into the dresser, laid my shoes by my bedroom door, and stored my journal and books inside the empty drawer of the bedside table. Folded inside my journal was a letter from my best friend, given to me on the last day of school right before the bell rang. The letter said how much I’d be missed over the summer but how exciting it must be to spend time with my aunt. The letter ended saying that when school started again, we would spend every lunch period sharing stories of our summer adventures.

By the time my Aunt came to say goodnight, I was deep under the covers. The blankets on my bed were perfectly heavy, holding me like a comforting hug, but the sheets were cool and soft. I stretched under them with a big yawn, spreading my arms and legs as if I were making a snow angel in cool cotton.

My aunt sat beside me, her back against the headboard, and wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders. Carl too leapt delicately on the bed, twirled once, then twice, before curling next to my pillow and purring loudly.

“I want to say again,” my aunt said, hugging me closer to her, “how happy I am that you’re here. We’re going to do so much this summer. Tomorrow, let’s have a picnic.”

That sounded perfect. I nestled deeper under the covers and yawned again. “Do you think you could tell me a story?” I asked. I wanted to sleep, but the day had been too exciting, and I was worried I would lie awake thinking of all the things I’d seen.

My aunt relaxed lower in the bed, still holding me next to her. Her breath became steady and her words slow.

“There once was a good boy named Reginald. No one knew whether he was a fox or a dog because he had a long nose, pointed ears, and a fluffy curled tail, and he acted differently than most dogs. He would sit atop the couch to watch the birds through the window. He would clean himself like a cat, bark at strangers like a dog, but prowl and hunt like a fox. Most of all, he liked to hunt for mice. Not in a cruel way. Reginald was a kind soul. The game for him was like hide and seek. He only wished to find where they were, give them a big sniff that said ‘I knew I’d find you!’ then go about his way.

“One day, he came upon a very timid rodent, a tiny fellow who was very frightened of big creatures and did not find the game of Reg and mouse very fun. By the time Reginald found him, he was shaking all over.

“‘What’s the matter?’ Reginald asked. ‘I was bound to find you. I’m an excellent mouser.’

“The mouse shook from whisker to tail. ‘Then you will eat me now?’ It shuddered.

“Reginald looked at the creature in alarm. ‘Is that why you thought I was sniffing through these boxes and barrels? I have no intention of eating you, only finding you.’

“The mouse wasn’t sure at first if it believed the animal who was by human standards a very small dog, but by the standards of a mouse, was very big indeed. Reginald laid on his belly and gave the mouse a few blinks, which was very confusing, as that was the way cats communicated trust.

“After a long moment, the mouse finally stopped shaking. ‘I’m sorry I was so frightened, but you see, I thought you were a fox. And foxes eat mice. But, you do not plan to eat me?’

“‘I often get confused for a fox,’ the creature said. ‘But I am not a fox. I am a Reginald.’”

My aunt was quiet for some time after. And I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d fallen asleep or not. I was so comfortable, so perfectly relaxed that I barely registered when she slipped from the bed, leaving me to sleep and dream about all manner of magical things.

Goodnight.

Sometimes we’re having so much fun, we forget that bedtime is coming, and when it’s time to brush our teeth and put our PJs on, we groan with sadness that the day is ending. But it’s not ending. We are merely sleeping so our bodies and minds can grow strong, and we can have even more fun tomorrow.

But if you’re still feeling restless, I’m going to tell you a story to help you fall asleep. Tonight’s tiny tale is about a field mouse who became good friends with Reginald the black dog. Or is he a fox? We may never know. But he will pay a special visit to a field mouse that lives in the great forest.

Amos the Field Mouse

Amos was a very timid mouse, especially among his peers. He never went to the nearby farm to steal food from the barn because that’s where the cats lived. He preferred to forge the forest near the overturned log that he called home. The outside was half buried in a thick bed of pine needles, but Amos had made the inside cozy and warm. He had carved deep shelves in the wood, and on them he stored his acorn mugs, pinecone scale plates, and small utensils he had purchased from the gnomes. He had a table made of smoothed bark atop four twig legs. His bed was a nest of soft cotton and feathers he’d gathered himself, but sometimes he took naps on the little armchair set in the corner of the room next to his clay fireplace.

Today, he’d gotten up early to collect dew drops, which he placed in a kettle that hung above the fire. As the water heated, he peaked outside his front door, through a hole in a knot in the log. It was small enough that he could scurry in and out and not be seen by anyone. Through the knot, he could see the aunt’s property through the many tall pine trees of the forest. That was where his good friend Reginald lived.

He wished he could run to the home to pay his old friend a visit, but that would have to wait for another time. Today, he would be hosting Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall was a toad who lived closer to the river. They had been planning the visit for some time, and Amos had cleaned his home, swept the hard earth floors, fluffed the little armchair, and had even baked cookies.

The kettle whistled and Amos turned, removing it from the clay fireplace and adding bits of dried mint leaves that he’d gathered from the aunt’s garden. He took the cookies down from the shelf and set the table for his friend.

“Are those cookies I smell?” his friend called through the knot in the log.

“Mr. Hall! Come in,” Amos said.

He saw Mr. Hall’s fingers first, long and green gripping the sides of the knot. Then Mr. Hall peaked his head through. A pleasant smile spread on his thin lips and he blinked one eye then the other.

“I haven’t had a cookie in ages,” he said as he squeezed through the knot and landed with a plop on Amos’s kitchen rug. Amos went to his friend and put a hand on Mr. Hall’s back. His skin was so different than Amos’s soft fur, almost feeling like the bark of the evergreen trees surrounding his home, but wet and smooth.

“I made these cookies especially for you, my friend, so you will have to eat as you’d like.”

Amos led Mr. Hall to the table, poured him a glass of mint tea, and set three cookies on the pinecone-scale plate. The two sat, sipping their tea, and chatted for a long while. Some may wonder what a toad and a field mouse may have to talk about, but they covered many topics from the forest weather, the height of the river this time of year, and memories of playing in the open field.

Just as Mr. Hall was asking how their good friend Reginald was doing, Amos heard a soft sniffing sound at the knot in the tree. When he looked to it, he could no longer see the forest, but only a black wet nose.

“Why Reginald, we were just talking about you,” Amos said.

The nose shifted to a glossy eye that peaked inside the kitchen.

“Are those cookies I smell?” Reginald asked.

“Why, yes. They are. Would you like one?”

“If I’m not intruding.”

Amos picked up the last of the two cookies and set them both on the knot’s entrance. Reginald licked them up then lay on his belly to better see and speak with his friends. He told them about a guest that was staying with the aunt for the entire summer.

“A tinier human than the aunt, but very kind,” he said. “Both of them will be coming this way tomorrow to have a picnic in the field.”

Amos was very excited but also nervous. He so rarely saw humans, not wishing to venture too close to any of their homes. But he admitted he would be watching for the two so he could see the guest for himself.

Amos smiled, happy to be with his dear friends, and breathed a heavy, contented sigh. Reginald was almost fourteen, a long age for…well, for both a dog and a fox. Mr. Hall was seven years old, one of the oldest toads of the river. And Amos, almost two years old, couldn’t fathom ever living as long as either of them. And honestly didn’t wish to. Every animal in the world lives to a certain age, and when compared, it was as if Amos and his two guests, while maybe not the same age, were in the same stage of life. They had lived happily, contentedly, and leaned on one another for friendship and love.

By the time Reginald and Mr. Hall were saying their goodbyes, the sun was about to set. Each moved their separate ways toward home, and Amos yawned. He burrowed deep into his cotton feather nest and breathed deep. Today had been another beautiful day in his hollow log home, and he looked forward to tomorrow as well when he would get to see the aunt and her guest venture through the forest toward the field for a picnic. But for now, he was happy to wrap his tail around himself, close his eyes, and let sleep bring him to a world of beautiful dreams.

Goodnight.

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Subscribe now

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that can bring fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but do not require you to follow the plot or remember the previous tale. Each story is able to stand on its own, allowing you to start wherever you’d like or listen to the next even if you fell asleep to the last.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Subscribe now

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Subscribe now

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Subscribe now

Note to parents:

Tiny Tales is a bedtime story podcast that will help ease your young ones (and even yourself) into a deep dream-filled sleep.

What to expect:

• Each tale is a quiet story with soft background music to encourage your child to fall asleep before the tale is even finished.

• If you would like to read a transcript of the tale before listening, please visit tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com.

• The stories are fairytale-like adventures with magical creatures (such as gnomes and mermaids), talking animals, nature, and the simple joys of life, like picnics and long walks.

• Listeners will learn that sleep is a way to recharge for the next day, not the end of their fun. “Sleep avoidance” is a common feeling that sometimes brings fear or even anger when bedtime is announced. These tales address these feelings and help listeners embrace relaxation.

• The tales progress one to another, but are not plot driven or require listening to the previous tale. Each story stands alone, allowing you to start wherever you’d like.

• As the story progresses, my words slow and quiet with longer pauses in between to encourage sleep. At the end, the music extends and fades out to cover any noise as you sneak from their room toward your own slumber.

Subscribe at tinytalesbedtimestories.substack.com for more bedtime tips and tricks and to be the first to know when new episodes are released.

Subscribe now