Leo and the Star Who Could Not Sleep

It was bedtime in Leo's little house.

Leo had taken his bath. He had brushed his teeth, top and bottom, round and round. He had put on his favorite blue pajamas, the ones with yellow stars and moons all over them.

Mama had read him a story about a sleepy owl. Papa had tucked the quilt up to his chin. They had both kissed him goodnight.

"Sweet dreams, Leo," said Mama.

"Sleep tight," said Papa.

They turned off the big light. Now only the little lamp glowed on the table by his bed. It made a warm, golden circle on the wall.

Leo closed his eyes.

But he could not sleep.

He opened his eyes again. He looked at the ceiling. He closed them. He opened them.

He rolled onto his left side. He rolled onto his right side. He rolled onto his tummy. Then onto his back again.

He fluffed his pillow. Fluff, fluff, fluff. He tried it on the cool side. He tried it on the warm side.

He counted his toes. One, two, three, four, five. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. He counted them again, just to be sure. Still ten.

He hugged his teddy bear, Mr. Button. Mr. Button had a soft brown tummy and one ear that was a little bit floppy.

"I cannot sleep, Mr. Button," Leo whispered.

Mr. Button did not answer. Mr. Button was already asleep. Or at least, he looked like he was.

Leo's eyes stayed wide open. His legs felt wiggly. His thoughts were zooming around in his head like busy little cars. Zoom, zoom, zoom.

So Leo climbed out of bed. His bare feet touched the cool wooden floor. He tiptoed across his room to the window. Tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe.

He pulled back the soft curtain and pushed the window open just a little. A cool breeze came in. It smelled like grass and night flowers.

Leo looked out.

The sky was deep, dark blue. It was full of stars. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Big ones and small ones, scattered all across the sky like sparkly sugar. Far away, the hills were dark and sleepy. The trees were still.

Everything in the whole world seemed to be asleep.

Everything except Leo.

And one little star.

High up in the sky, just above the hills, there was one small star that was blinking faster than all the rest. Blink, blink, blink, blink. It twinkled and flickered and sparkled, as if it could not keep still.

"Hello," Leo whispered. "Can you not sleep either?"

The little star blinked. Blink, blink, blink.

Leo leaned his chin on the windowsill.

He imagined that the star was talking to him. He imagined it had a tiny, twinkly voice.

"I am too busy thinking," the star seemed to say. "I think about the moon. I think about the clouds. I think about all the places I can see from up here. I think about tomorrow. And I cannot stop."

Leo nodded slowly. "Me too," he whispered. "I think about school. I think about my new red shoes. I think about the park, and the big slide, and whether my friend Sam will be there. My thoughts are going round and round."

Blink, blink, blink, said the star.

Leo watched it for a while. It was so busy. It looked a little bit tired, too.

Then Leo remembered something.

When he was very little, sometimes he could not sleep. And Papa would come and sit on the edge of his bed. Papa would put his big warm hand on Leo's tummy.

"Let us breathe like a balloon," Papa would say. "Breathe in slowly, and fill up the balloon. Then breathe out slowly, and let it float away."

Leo had forgotten all about that.

He looked up at the little star.

"I know something that helps," he told it. "My papa taught me. Do you want to try it with me?"

The star blinked. Leo decided that meant yes.

"Okay," whispered Leo. "We breathe in."

He took a slow, deep breath through his nose. He filled up his tummy with air, like a big round balloon. His tummy puffed out. One, two, three.

"And we breathe out," he whispered.

He let the air out slowly through his mouth, like a long, soft sigh. Haaaaaa. His tummy went down again. One, two, three.

He looked at the star. "Again," he said.

Breathe in. One, two, three. Like a balloon.

Breathe out. One, two, three. Like a sigh.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Leo kept going. In, and out. In, and out. Slow and gentle, like waves on a beach.

And as he breathed, something changed.

The busy little cars in his head began to slow down. Zoom, zoom... zoom... zoom. Then they parked, one by one.

His wiggly legs stopped wiggling.

His shoulders felt soft. His arms felt soft. Even his fingers felt soft and sleepy.

Leo looked up at the sky.

The little star was blinking slower now. Not blink, blink, blink, blink. But blink... blink... blink.

Slow and calm. Just like Leo's breathing.

"See?" Leo whispered with a smile. "It helps."

He breathed in one more time. He breathed out one more time. And then he gave a great big yawn. Haaaaawm.

His eyes felt heavy, like there were little pillows on his eyelids.

"I think it is time for bed now," Leo said to the star. "For both of us."

He closed the window gently, but he left the curtain open. That way, he could still see the sky.

He tiptoed back across the cool floor. Tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe. He climbed into his warm bed. He pulled the soft quilt up to his chin. He tucked Mr. Button under his arm.

From his pillow, Leo could still see the little star through the window. It was not flickering anymore. It was glowing, soft and steady and calm, like a tiny nightlight in the sky.

"Goodnight, little star," Leo whispered.

The star glowed back.

"Goodnight, Mr. Button," Leo whispered.

Mr. Button's floppy ear seemed to nod.

Leo breathed in, like a balloon.

He breathed out, like a sigh.

In, and out.

In, and out.

And before he knew it, Leo was fast asleep.

And high above the sleepy hills, so was the little star.