Kiko the Baby Sloth Says a Very Slow Goodnight to the Rainforest

High in the rainforest, in a tall tree with smooth grey bark and big shiny leaves, there lived a baby sloth named Kiko. He had shaggy brown fur, a round sleepy face, and a little dark stripe around each eye, as if he were wearing tiny glasses. He had long arms with curved claws that were perfect for holding on to branches.

Kiko lived with his mother, who was the slowest and calmest sloth in the whole forest. She moved like honey poured from a spoon. Slowly. Gently. Never in a hurry.

But Kiko was a little bit different. When the evening came, Kiko did not want to be slow at all.

"Bedtime already?" he would say. "I am not tired! I want to swing! I want to climb! I want to see everything!"

And he would try to scramble up the branch as fast as he could. Of course, for a sloth, fast was not very fast. But Kiko wriggled and kicked and huffed, and the leaves around him shook and rustled.

One evening, the sky between the treetops turned pink, then purple. The air grew soft and cool. A light rain had just finished falling, and every leaf was dripping with shiny drops.

"Time to rest, my little one," said Mama Sloth.

"But I am not sleepy," said Kiko. He kicked his legs. "My legs are wiggly. My eyes are wide open. My head is full of busy thoughts."

Mama Sloth looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled her slow, kind smile.

"Then let us not go to sleep yet," she said. "Let us say goodnight to the rainforest instead. But we must do it the sloth way."

"What is the sloth way?" asked Kiko.

"Very, very slowly," said Mama Sloth.

Kiko thought this sounded a little boring. But he was curious. "All right," he said.

Mama Sloth reached out one long arm and pointed at a leaf beside them. It was wide and green, with a single raindrop balanced at its tip. The drop glittered in the last of the light.

"First," she said, "we say goodnight to the raindrop. But we must watch it for one whole breath."

Kiko looked at the raindrop. He breathed in slowly. He breathed out slowly. The raindrop trembled. Then it fell. Plip.

"Goodnight, raindrop," whispered Kiko.

"Now," said Mama Sloth, "let us say goodnight to the branch."

They moved along the branch together. Mama Sloth went first, one claw, then another claw, then another. Kiko tried to go fast, but Mama Sloth gently put her arm in front of him.

"The sloth way," she reminded him.

So Kiko moved one claw. He waited. He moved another claw. He waited. He felt the bark under his paws, smooth in some places and bumpy in others. He had never noticed that before.

"Goodnight, branch," he said softly.

Down below, something glowed. A firefly was blinking in the darkness, a tiny green-gold light. On, off. On, off.

"Can we say goodnight to the firefly?" asked Kiko.

"We can," said Mama Sloth. "Let us count its blinks. Very slowly."

They counted together. "One... two... three... four..."

The firefly drifted away between the leaves.

"Goodnight, firefly," said Kiko. He yawned a little yawn, but he did not notice.

Next, they listened. Far away, a frog was singing. Creek, creek, creek. Nearby, the leaves were whispering in the breeze. Somewhere, a big drop of water fell from a high leaf all the way down to the forest floor. Plop.

"Goodnight, frog," said Kiko. "Goodnight, breeze. Goodnight, big plop."

Mama Sloth chuckled very softly.

They reached a fork in the tree where two branches made a cozy V shape. A family of tiny tree frogs sat on a leaf there, bright green with red eyes, all huddled together.

"Goodnight, little frogs," whispered Kiko.

The tree frogs blinked their red eyes slowly, as if they were saying goodnight back.

Above them, through a gap in the leaves, the moon was rising. It was round and silver, and it shone down on the wet leaves so that they sparkled.

"Look, Mama," said Kiko. "The moon."

"Let us say goodnight to it the sloth way," said Mama Sloth. "We will look at it until we have counted three slow breaths."

Kiko breathed in. He breathed out. He breathed in again. His eyelids felt heavy, like little leaves full of rain. He breathed out. He breathed in a third time.

"Goodnight, moon," he murmured.

Mama Sloth wrapped her long arms around a branch in the cozy V. "Here is our bed," she said. "Come and hold on."

Kiko curled up against her warm, shaggy fur. He hooked his claws around the branch. The branch swayed gently, back and forth, back and forth, like a hammock.

"Mama," he said sleepily, "I did not say goodnight to everything yet."

"What is left?" asked Mama Sloth.

Kiko thought very slowly. "The rain," he said. "And the clouds. And the stars behind the clouds. And the leaves. And the frogs. And... and..."

His voice grew softer and softer.

"And you," he whispered.

Mama Sloth kissed the top of his fuzzy head. "Goodnight, my Kiko," she said. "Tomorrow is a whole new day to see everything."

Kiko did not answer. His wiggly legs were still. His wide-open eyes were closed. His busy thoughts had floated away like fireflies drifting between the trees.

The frog sang its slow song. The breeze whispered in the leaves. The moon shone silver on the sleeping forest.

And high in the tall tree with the smooth grey bark, a baby sloth slept snug against his mother, holding on tight, swaying gently in the warm night air.

The next evening, when the sky turned pink and purple again, Kiko did not kick or wriggle.

He looked at his mother and smiled a slow, sleepy smile.

"Mama," he said, "shall we say goodnight the sloth way?"