← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Brooke's Cozy Rainy Day ☔️✨ The Cutest Kids Bedtime Stories
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- [00:11]
A
Hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, the podcast of original children's bedtime stories and meditations designed to make bedtime a dream. We're now in the final weeks of the long summer holiday and I'm curious about what you've been doing. Have you had any new experiences lately? Personally, I've been making and trying out natural dyes made from ingredients in my spice rack and kitchen cupboards, which has been a surprising source of curiosity and creativity. Please send me a voice note about something new that you've discovered you love lately and you can use the link in the show notes and inspire me. Tonight we're going with friends Brooke and Forest on another outing. Not to the zoo this time, but to somewhere way more messy. It's a rainy day, so we're staying dry inside a pottery studio. Before we begin, a quick message for the grown ups. If you'd like to support our podcast, enjoy ad free listening, unlock four bonus stories per month and much, much more. You can join Koko Club. Subscribe in Just two taps via the link in the show notes, but now here's a quick word from our sponsors. Does your little one love the adventures of Bluey?
- [01:27]
B
I know I do. What if they could talk and play with Bluey, Bingo or Muffin right in their own room with the all new Bluey Chatmates?
- [01:37]
A
Now they can. Each figure comes to life with a.
- [01:40]
B
Press of the nose, saying 10 fun phrases straight from the show. Perfect for little hands and big imaginations. You can collect Bluey, Bingo and Muffin or look out for special versions like Bingo on her scooter or Rita with her granny mobile, complete with granny glasses.
- [01:58]
A
And a grabber tool.
- [01:59]
B
They're poseable, totally adorable, and ready for bedtime adventures or daytime play. And kids will love recreating their favorite Bluey moments or making up brand new ones. And with more characters to collect, there's always a new adventure waiting to unfold. Bluey Chatmates are available at all major retailers.
- [02:24]
A
Grown Ups if your little one is drifting off to Kuala Moon, but you.
- [02:28]
B
Yourself are sometimes still awake when your.
- [02:30]
A
Head hits the pillow, there's a podcast I think you might really enjoy. It's called Sleepy and it's a beautifully simple idea. Host Otis Gray reads old books in a slow, soothing voice. Classic stories like Peter Pan, Winnie the Pooh, Pride and Prejudice, and more. I just listened to his episode the Blue Castle and found it super relaxing. For years, Otis has helped millions of people wind down, quiet their thoughts, and rediscover the comfort of being read to.
- [03:03]
B
It's calm and nostalgic. And if you love storytelling as much.
- [03:06]
A
As your kids do, it might be just the thing to add to your own bedtime routine.
- [03:12]
B
You can listen to Sleepy on Spotify.
- [03:14]
A
Or wherever you get your podcasts new bedtime stories every week. Listen, rest, and relax, as together we learn how to mould clay into pots and jugs and then paint them to our heart's content. This is Brook's rainy Day By Jane Thomas this evening, right now, right this moment, as you lie curled up in your bed, all cosy and snug, you're going on an outing, and you're going with Brooke and Forrest. You remember Forrest, who always walks with one hand on the back of Brooke's wheelchair so he doesn't get lost. And Brooke, basketball player extraordinaire. Forrest's father, is taking the three of you on a special outing for Forrest's birthday, which was actually three weeks ago. But Forrest's family is as scatterbrained and forgetful as Forrest, so they've only just remembered that he should probably do something to celebrate. And of course, you and Brook are going, too. That goes without saying. It's raining, so you pull on your big waterproof coat, the bright yellow one with the huge hood and deep pockets, and you fiddle around, getting the zip lined up before drawing it all the way up to the top, safely wrapped in waterproof yellow. You head outside. The stone steps are a little slippery in the rain, so you walk carefully, lifting your feet slowly and placing them gently but firmly on the ground. Then you reach the sidewalk and you put your hands deep into your pockets, your head down, and you run as fast as you can up towards Brook's house, number 44, the one with the red door that's now shining with rain. Brooke has been waiting for you, watching out of the glass panels in the door, and before you can get your hand out of your pocket to ring the bell, she's already opened it. She's wearing an equally enormous bright yellow waterproof coat, and over her knees she has a waterproof blanket for good measure, one that covers her legs and feet. She is, to all intents and purposes, encased in a waterproof cocoon. Brook rolls out of the house, and with one hand you close the door behind her, and with the other you grab the back of her chair. Then you turn, and two hands holding on firmly, you dash forwards. It's a quick trip down one garden path, along a few meters of sidewalk, and then up another path, heading for the shiny with rain blue door of number 42. Forrest has been waiting for you both, and he opens the door, ushering you inside. There's a great shaking of coats and an exchange of awkward, mumbled Happy birthday, I guess, sort of comments, because you knew it was his birthday three weeks ago and you said it to him. Then Forrest's father, Mr. Oak, appears through the door that leads into the garage. He's a huge fellow, as tall as a tree, with arms that look like branches that could reach the edges of the sky. His big bushy beard looks as though it might have birds nesting in it. He looks at Brook and smiles and asks, may I? And she nods, yes, yes, he can. And he bends down from his great height and scoops her up as if she weighs no more than a feather, carrying her carefully to the car in the garage and settling her into the seat. Next he returns for her wheelchair and with a simple flick of the wrist he collapses it and folds it neatly, popping it into the trunk of the car. You and Forrest are ushered into the garage and find your spaces in the car. You're in the back, sitting behind Mr. Oak, which means you have to look out of the side window if you want to see anything, because his shoulders and head and beard seem to take up the entire view to the front. And so it is. You sit in the back and look out of the window to the side, watching the garage walls slide away and become the outside world grey and damp, and rain starts splashing onto the window and everything is a bit of a blur. With two damp coats in the car, the windows start steaming up and you take your hand every now and then and rub clear a little patch on the window so you can keep looking out, watching the hedges go by and other cars and bits of buildings that you only just recognise because you can't see them properly, not through the small patch you have to keep clearing. You're headed to a village in the hills, and more particularly you are heading to a little cottage to a lady called Mrs. Penelope Porcelain, which is an extraordinarily appropriate name for someone who is a potter, a potter being someone who, you guessed it, makes pots. There are a surprising number of people who are potters in the area. But there is a particular reason Forrest and his father have chosen to visit Mrs. Penelope Porcelain for his birthday treat. And you realise what the reason is almost as soon as you arrive, because there is this beautiful cottage, covered from ground to roof in honeysuckle, a little blue door the colour of the sky on a sunny day, and leading up to the door is a ramp. The ramp is exactly what Brook's wheelchair needs. And it turns out this is exactly why you you've come to this particular potter. Mr. Oak dashes outside and retrieves the wheelchair, giving it a quick flick of his wrist to open it out, and once more he leans into the car and asks Brook, may I? And she nods yes, yes he can, and he reaches in and scoops her out and places her gently in the chair, being sure to cover her legs once more with the waterproof blanket. He dashes over to the little blue door, pushing Brook into the shelter of a porch and leaning over to knock the little fist shaped knocker that hangs in the centre of the door. You and Forrest climb out and rush to join them, squeezing into the little covered space that protects you all from the rain, somehow finding room even though Mr. Oak is in there and his shoulders almost reach the sides and his head almost reaches the ceiling. A tiny lady answers the door, not just tiny because she's sitting in a wheelchair, but tiny because she is, well, tiny. Mrs. Penelope Porcelain looks as delicate as her name, and you shake her tiny hand as gently as you can because it looks as though it might break at any moment. She laughs at everything, even when there is nothing to laugh at, this light soft little laugh that seems to twinkle off the walls and make the cottage sparkle. You follow the sound of her laughter all the way through to her workshop where she shows you the pegs where you can hang your big yellow waterproof coat and hands you a towel so you can dry your hands and face, and then she shows you where you can leave your shoes, and she hands over a soft cosy pair of slippers, a pair for each of you, and you ease your feet into them. There's a stove at the end of the room with a fire burning, a Mrs. Penelope porcelain. Penny, she says. You must call me. Penny opens the door and throws in another lock, a wave of heat wafting towards you. Mr. Oak looks suddenly awkward, not sure if he should stay or go, and Penny says to him he has a choice and and he can sit by the fire in the big chair with the soft cushions or he can have a go on the potter's wheel too, and he looks between the two, caught between having a doze by the fireside or trying his hand at pottery, and eventually he mumbles something about, well, if it isn't too much trouble, and lowers himself gently onto the stool by the wheel. Forrest sits next to his father by another wheel and you are next to Forrest and then Brook is next to you, only Brook's wheel is a little different because yours And Forrest's and Mr. Oak's all have foot pedals and hers does not. Brooke's wheel is the same as Penny's, with levers that can be operated by arms and elbows. And this is another thing, yet another thing that has been changed and tweaked so even people like Brooke and Mrs. Penelope Porcelain can take part. And you think for the thousandth time that it is rather wonderful when the world adapts to them rather than them always having to adapt to the world. Mugs and jugs, announced Penny. Today it's all mugs and jugs. But first we need to feel the wheel. Feel the wheel. She places a big blob of grey clay on the round surface in front of you, a big misshapen blob of clay, and she tells you dip your hands into the water bowl beside you, and then she tells you to press the pedal gently, gently, and the wheel starts to move. The grey clay moves round and around as the wheel turns. Mr. Oak makes the first mistake, leaning down on his pedal as gently as he can, but pressing it far harder than is needed, and his clay spins for a few glorious moments before flying off into the room and landing splat, right in front of the fire. Penny's laughter trickles around the room as she scoops it up and returns it to the rightful place on the wheel again. She points out places around the room where clay has landed before, in corners on the ceiling on the back wall, and giggles as she says that once a ball even went flying straight through the window and landed splash in the watering can outside. Mr. Oak tries operating the pedal with just his toe. Perhaps that will be safer. Penny tells you all to place your hands around the clay, feeling the way it moves between your fingers. She shows you to keep splashing water to keep it smooth, and then she tells you to try pressing it a little, and you feel how the clay starts coming together, and before long it isn't just a grey blob any longer, but a tube a little wider at the base and a little wobbly here and there, but it is coming together as something smooth that looks as though it belongs, as though it could actually become something. You look across and watch Brook focusing hard, her tongue poking out a little, a frown on her face as she leans forwards, pushing the lever with her elbow to start and stop the wheel. And on the other side is Forrest, who keeps placing a fingernail against the cylinder of clay he's created, so it has lines going around and around, a perfect Series of lines cut into the clay. And then he grins and wets his hands again and holds them flat against the clay. And the lines are gone. And once more it is smooth. On the far end, Mr. Oak's huge hands all but cover the blob of clay completely, and he keeps pressing too hard so it gets narrower and narrower. And then there is this sausage of clay spinning on a tiny disc and it collapses and he has to mash it all back together and start again. Penny sits at the front by her wheel and shows you how to push your thumbs down into the centre of the cylinder you've created, and how you can push and pull and push and pull, and you will create something that has a centre. And slowly, slowly, you realise how it is possible to make something that looks as though it could somehow, sometime be a mug or a jug. At least it could if you added a handle to it. The room is warm with a fire and with concentrating so hard on the clay. And you stand up and go over to the sink and wash your hands, watching the grey water run down the plug hole. And when finally it is clear, you dry your hands and then pull off your jumper, placing it on the chair that stands by the fire. And then you go back to your wheel. The clay sits there patiently, waiting for you to return, not moving until you press the pedal and ask it to spin. It takes a while. It takes longer than you might know, but it's hard to tell that time is moving because the rain continues outside and the clouds are there. So the day was always gloomy and you don't know that the afternoon is rushing by. So, yes, it takes a while, but finally you all have an empty pot in front of you. Some are tall and thin and others are short and squat, but you each have something that looks like a damp grey pot. And now, Penny says you must decide. Now is the time to choose if you'll make a mug or a jug. And you choose to make a jug because it will go well in your grandmother's house, she has so many lined up on the mantelpiece above the fire. Penny shows you how to take the edge of the pot you've created and pinch it between your thumb and finger to make a spout, something that turns the pot into a jug. And Brook decides to do the same together. You focus on making the perfect smooth spout that looks the same from both sides. And there comes a time when you both give up and have to go back to the start and push the clay back together to make a single grey blob. And then press your thumbs into the centre as it slowly spins so you can hollow it out and make a pot. And then you try once more to make the spout so that it can be used for pouring. Then comes the time when you are all given strips of clay, and Penny hands you a rolling pin. A rolling pin almost exactly the same as the one you use in the kitchen when you're helping make cookies. And you make the strip even and flat, and then take a section and forge a handle from it. And water acts as glue so you can attach the handle onto the body of the jug or mug, if you're Forrest or Mr. Oak. And there they are, two jugs and two mugs, grey and shiny with water, waiting to go into the oven. It's a kiln, says Penny, pointing to the great round thing in the corner of the room. And she explains that the mugs and jugs must sit a while and then be baked at a high temperature. And then they will sit again and be baked, and then you will come back and paint them, paint them any colour you like, with any decorations you like, and they will be baked again. It is a long process, you think, just to make a mug. And when Penny hands around steaming mugs of hot chocolate, you look at the mug with a newfound respect and think how much time it has taken to create that mug just so you can sit here and drink that hot chocolate perched on a stool in a cottage, covered in honeysuckle. Penny gives you some other pieces to practise painting on, and you take a brush and dip it into green, and you do your best to paint a picture of a boat on the side of the pot she's given you. And normally you aren't too bad at painting boats, but this is hard because the sides are round and it isn't a flat piece of paper at all. You keep trying and get thinner and thinner brushes to keep it as tidy as you can. And finally, you have something that looks a little like a green boat with a red sail. And there are seagulls flying overhead. And something that might possibly be a whale on the other side, rising out of the ocean, but might just be a rock if you look at it from a different angle. Looking up, you see the walls are lined with Penny's own mugs and jugs, each one painted with a beautiful, intricate image with flowers woven together, or two squirrels rolling in the snow, or parrots in flight above rainforests. And you wonder how many years, how many years must it take to be able to make Pots that perfect. You look over at Forrest's practice piece and he has painted two swans looking at each other, and their necks are curved in such a way that they form a heart between them, and the swans are perfect, smooth and neat and clear. This is something Forrest has longed to do for ages, but he waited until they had found Mrs. Penelope Porcelain because he wanted Brook to be able to come along too. Brook has painted her practice piece bright orange with black lines running down it so it looks for all the world like a miniature basketball, and you smile as you think, of course, of course, that is what Brooke would paint on anything, and Mr. Oak has created a tree on his mug, and perhaps this is where Forrest learned his skills, because the tree is as perfect as Forrest's swans, and the tree has individual leaves and individual flowers, and on one branch is a robin, bright red breast gleaming amongst all the green. You look at your boat and something that might be a whale and might be a rock and shrug your shoulders. Your jug looks good. It's a little lopsided and the spout isn't exactly even, and the handle has an odd kink in it that refuses to be eased out, but for the first ever try, your mug is good and it was a peaceful afternoon in this lovely cottage, with the tinkling sound of Penny's laughter trickling from the walls with the rain pouring down outside and the gentle rhythm of the wheel going round and round and round. Penny says she will see you all next week, and you remove the slippers and push your feet into shoes that have dried in the warmth of the room and pull on your huge yellow coat and line up the fiddly zip at the bottom and pull it all the way to the top. And then you're outside, dashing over to the car and climbing into the seat behind Mr. Oak. It's only a matter of minutes before you are once more using the palm of your hand to clear a little patch in the steam so you can look outside and watch fragments of hedge and building and car. And you pull into the garage next to Forrest's house, and just before you leave to take Brooke home back to the shining red door of number 44, Forrest calls out and says, oh, he almost forgot, and dashes into the kitchen. He emerges with little bags, and in each bag is a thick slice of cake wrapped carefully in paper because it was his birthday, even though it was really his birthday three weeks before, and you get to take some cake home with you because that is the rule, he says. Brook slips her little bag under the blanket across her knees, and you put yours into the deep pocket of your coat. And you dash out into the rain one last time, pushing her up to the red front door and. And waving cheerfully as you run down the path and along the sidewalk, then take careful, firm, but gentle steps up the slippery stones to your own front door. Then you are inside and taking off the coat and your shoes and climbing the stairs. And suddenly you're tired, so tired from your day. And you think that just for a minute you'll lie on your bed and close your eyes. And once more you're back in the warm room, the fire crackling in the stove at the far end, the wheel turning slowly, your hands wrapped around the grey clay and shaping it, watching it rise and fall, rise and fall as you ease your hands in and out, in and out. And there are two swans watching you. Two swans that stand in such a way that their bodies and necks form a heart together. And there's a robin with a bright red breast watching you from a tree. And over to the side is a basketball bouncing its way into the scene. And there is the gentle tinkle of laughter that tumbles down the walls and wraps you in the promise that this day, this day will be wonderful. Sa.