← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Diesel & The Cleanbot 3000 🤖🐱 Rewind Bedtime Story
00:30:17
Loading summary
Transcript8 lines
- [00:10]
A
Hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, a podcast of original children's bedtime stories and meditations designed to make bedtime a dream. This evening, our newest Coco Clubbers all come from the other side of the world. Hi and thank you for deciding to join us and our friends in sleepy forests. Sophie and Hazel from Taupo, New Zealand Spencer Hudson, Audrey and Lucy from Swan Hill, Australia and Heather and George from Queensland, Australia. Enjoy your extra bonus episodes guys and all the ad free listening from now on. 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 subscribe in just two taps via the link in the show notes, but now here's a quick word from our sponsors.
- [01:10]
B
Do you want to spend another summer stuck at home?
- [01:12]
A
Abe Jim, how's your back? Oh, you know. I hear ya.
- [01:16]
B
Leave the small talk behind because Disney and Pixar invite you on an out of this world adventure.
- [01:22]
A
Engaging Hyperspeed this is awesome on June 20th. Welcome to the communiverse. Prepare to be conquered. But I just got here. Follow me. What is this Lace? These are the lava tunnels. I am Not Fireproof.
- [01:35]
B
Disney and Pixar's elliott in theaters June 20th. Tickets available now. Rated PGA.
- [01:39]
A
Parental guidance suggested hello Koala Moon listeners. If you have babies and toddlers in your family, then this announcement is for you. I'd like to tell you about my other sleep show, Koala Tots. It's got all the magic of Koala Moon, but it's made especially for the littlest of listeners, babies and toddlers. Koala Tots is packed with soothing stories and calming rhymes perfect for helping babies and toddlers sleep like a dream. Not only are the stories incredibly relaxing, but they have easy to understand language and gentle repetition designed to help with babies cognitive development as they drift off to sleep. There's even appearances from some of the Koala Moon star favorites alongside the cutest episodes like how to Hug a Hedgehog and Nugget's Cozy Night. So search Koala Tots on your favorite podcast player and hit follow so you can find it easily night after night. In tonight's story, we meet a cat named Diesel who's startled by a new addition to the household, a beeping, buzzing, flashing robot vacuum cleaner. How would you feel if a robot came to live and work in your home? Luckily, Diesel is a very insightful cat and he knows how to make it feel right at home. Let's shortly join him on his special tour of the very best bits of his home. But first, just lie back in bed and make sure you're comfy. As comfy as can be, in fact. Sort out your bedding and pillow and check your lights are nice and low there. Take a breath in and breathe it out. Breathe in and out. Nice and steady and see if you can slow it down a little bit each cycle. So breathe in, 2, 3, 4. Hold and out. 2, 3, 4. In, 2, 3, 4, 5. Hold and out. 2, three, four, five. Keep going. In, 2, 3, four, five, six. Hold and out. You know what to do, so I'm curious to meet this little robot. Let's head off to see how it and Diesel are getting along. This is Diesel and the CleanBot 3000 by Jane Thomas. The quiet villages of lower Starry skies and upper starry skies are wrapped up in winter. It gets dark early in the day, so by four in the afternoon people are starting to draw their curtains and light their fires. The street lights barely have time to go out before they need to come on again. Even on those crisp days when frost makes the grass crunch and there isn't a cloud in the clear blue sky, it still gets dark just as children are getting home from school today. It's one of those cold days of winter, though, with an icy wind whipping and winding its way up the high street and reaching into all the corners of all the alleys. There's a cat walking his way home. He spent the last few hours in a friend's garden, hiding in a soft, warm den beneath the boughs of a wisteria that in the summer hangs heavy with purple flowers, but now, in the depths of winter, stands bare and twisted against the wall. The den is lined with mounds of moss, and the cat was reluctant to leave, but he knows that soon his owner will be expecting him to curl up on her knees. And really, although he may never admit it to another cat, this is his favorite time of day by far. She often reads to him from whichever book she's buried her nose in. So he is, all things considered, a very knowledgeable cat indeed. He lives behind the blue frontage and the blue door of the little shop that stands in the row of shops on the hill between lower and upper starry skies. Where there's a wool, There's A Way has been very busy in recent weeks with customers piling in to stock up on wool so they can knit the warmest cool cosiest hats and scarves, jumpers and gloves, rugs and socks. The cat hurries a Little as the cold wind ruffles his fur, he walks quickly, pressing himself against the walls of the house, relieved at last to see the soft light glowing above the blue door that to him says home. As he bundles himself inside, Mrs. Woollingworth gives him a smile from behind the counter. I'll be with you soon, Diesel, she calls after him as he heads up the stairs. Diesel. It's an unexpected name, given that Diesel is such a fluffy cat. You'd think Diesel would be the name of a cat that looked like an oil slick. But cats are funny creatures who will not be named anything other than the name which they think is best. Mrs. Woollingworth had tried all manner of names, trying desperately to make something sensible like Fluffball Stick, but the cat had resolutely ignored her efforts. She knew he had a name that she just hadn't worked out yet, and so one evening she decided to read through the dictionary until he acknowledged his name. She'd worked her way all through the A's, looking up hopefully when she came to names she particularly liked, such as as Apple and Arthur and Archie. Then she'd worked her way through the bees, willing him to respond to Bertie or Bob or Balthazar. By the time she reached the seas, she was losing hope, trying out Camomile and Charlie and Confucius to see if any of those fitted. While not seriously expecting any reply, Mrs. Woollingworth was running her finger down the D's in the dictionary and allowed herself a little chuckle when she read aloud. Diesel. The cat leapt up and wrapped himself around her legs. Really? Said Mrs. Woollingworth. Diesel. But you're a fluffball. The cat jumped onto her lap and buried his head into his paws. Diesel, she repeated, and the cat began to purr. And thus Mrs. Willingworth discovered that she had the only cat in the world who was as fluffy as a pom pom, who responded to the name Diesel. To other cats he's known as the King of Cats, a powerful, wise animal who roams around with an air that sets him apart from others. But to Mrs. Woollingworth, he will forever be Diesel. He now wears his name proudly on his little blue collar, blue to match the door of where there's a wool, there's a way, marked on one side with his name and on the other with hers, just in case he were ever to wander further afield than he should. Diesel never does that. He is a creature of habit, fond of sleeping and snoozing, visiting his friend beneath the wisteria, and occasionally venturing to the meadow in the spring, when the flowers and butterflies are just waiting to be played with and chased. He goes to the top of the stairs now and waits for Mrs. Woollingworth to turn the sign on the front door from open to closed. Or as he sees it from his side, looking out from closed to open, she will come up and open his can of tuna, careful to leave the kitchen so he can eat in peace. And there she comes, as predictable as ever, Mrs. Woollingworth climbing the stairs and heading into the kitchen. Diesel follows close behind and winds himself around her legs as she reaches for the can and opener. He meows a thank you as she places his bowl of tuna on the floor and is about to take a bite when he realises Something is wrong. Mrs. Woollingworth hasn't left. He looks up, confused. Now listen, dear Diesel, there's going to be a bit of a change this evening, she explains. Diesel doesn't like the sound of this. Mr. Bartholomew has asked me to help ready the church for the service tomorrow and I've promised to go and help polish the pews and arrange the flowers. You'll have to look after yourself this evening, I'm afraid. Diesel isn't so sure about this at all. He eyes up an entire evening with knees and naps and words being read aloud. This is not what he had in his mind when he'd walked up the hill with the wind whipping around him. He had half a notion to go back to the mossy den beneath the wisteria. Look at this, Mrs. Woollingworth interrupted his thoughts. Isn't it clever? It's a CleanBot 3000. I just pop it down here like this and press these buttons like this and it will do all the vacuuming while I'm out. Now you just have to make sure you don't get your tail caught or do anything silly. Diesel looked at the CleanBot 3000 with alarm. The CleanBot 3000 had lights that flickered and seemed to wink at him. And then it set off, trundling around the room, breathing in deeply as it went to suck up all the bits of crumbs and dirt from the deep carpets. Oh, it's brilliant, isn't it? Said Mrs. Woollingworth, watching in wonder as the CleanBot 3000 bumped into a wall and turned to head off in a new direction. I'm sure you'll be the best of friends before you know it, Diesel. Have a wonderful evening. And with that, she headed out of the door and tottered down the stairs, ringing the little brass bell as she opened and closed the front door of the shop. Diesel jumped onto the sofa and looked down at the little round vacuum cleaner, moving slowly this way and that across the carpet as it explored all the corners of its new home. He was just getting used to the whirring sound the CleanBot 3000 made when it came to an abrupt halt in front of him. Well, it said, the main thing I'm finding is your cat hairs. Otherwise this Mrs. Woollingworth of yours is as clean as a whistle. How do you know her name? Gasped Diesel. Written on the box. Dear boy, I arrived this afternoon. Travelled all the way from China to get here, you know. No, said Diesel. I didn't know lots of cats in China, said the Cleanbot, quite ignoring Diesel's comment. In fact, you're quite often seen as gods over there. Apparently you bring good luck and good fortune. The Creambot flickered its lights a little, as if chuckling to itself. I'm not sure I bring much of that, replied Diesel, but I know how to make Mrs. Woollingworth happy. She often tells me she's never been happier than since I arrived. The Cleanbot wondered aloud how a cat could make a person so very happy, and Diesel thought about it for a little before explaining that he knew how to relax and how to help Mrs. Woollingworth relax. I've no intention of stroking you, said the Cleanbot hastily. If that's what's needed to relax. Well, I'm not interested. No, no, assured Diesel. That works for her, I'm sure, but for you? Let me think. Would you like to see my favourite places for relaxing? The Cleanbot's lights flickered green, so Diesel jumped down from his safe place on the sofa and padded towards the bedroom. The Cleanbot followed close behind. Diesel showed the machine the corner of the room that caught the sunlight in the early morning. He showed how he pulled one of Mrs. Woollingworth's scarves and piled it into a soft little nest, and how he turned around and around, pushing the scarf with his paws until it rose and fell in just the right places to make him as comfortable and cosy as possible. And if there isn't any sun? Asked the Cleanbot. Diesel crept beneath the bed, pushing aside a few hat boxes until he reached the spot right in the centre. He used his paws to tip open one of the boxes and then pulled out a beautiful green beret, a soft felt hat that was perfect, he showed, for curling up inside. In fact, Diesel gave such a good demonstration of how comfortable the beret could be that he almost fell asleep, his mind just drifting off towards dreamland. When the Cleanbot interrupted his thoughts. Im not sure I can push everything aside and fit under there quite so neatly as you, he explained, showing how he bumped into the bed legs and boxes and kept getting tangled up against the ironing board that Mrs. Hollingwort kept beneath the bed. Diesel sighed and stretched, sliding out from his hiding place and heading towards the bathroom. He jumped onto the windowsill and sat down next to the plant pots that stood lined up in place. He explained how warm the room became when Mrs. Willingworth ran a hot bath, the steam filling the air and making it into something of a sauna. He loved stretching out on the windowsill, his head resting against a soft green fern. He always felt ready for anything after a good long sleep and stretch in his personal sauna. Or at least he felt ready to move to the next rest stop. The Cleanbot once more offered up a problem. I'm powered by electricity you see, dear fellow, and I really shouldn't spend long hanging around in bathrooms full of steam. Diesel had to concede the CleanBot 3000 had a good point and carefully he hopped from his plant covered perch and headed towards the kitchen. This is where Mrs. Woollingworth had left a bed specially for him, just in case any other cats were to visit. They would know this was Diesel's bed because his name was crocheted along the edge in bright red letters that stood 3 inches high. Diesel climbed into the nest of a bed, all piled with cushions and blankets that he could arrange just as he chose for the moment and his mood. He was just explaining to the Cleanbot that sometimes he liked to be fully buried beneath the fluffy blue blanket when yet again, the cleaner interrupted him. But that is your special bed, said the Cleanbot. Surely you wouldn't want to come and find me in there. I'd feel awful if I used your personal bed, dear fellow. Why, it has your name on it and everything. Diesel decided it was probably right. He hated the thought of coming into the kitchen with a plan in mind, to leap headlong into the pile of blankets and pillows, only to have to stop short because the Cleanbot had got there before him. Everything smelled just the way he liked it, partly thanks to the little pieces of tuna he'd buried away in the bottom quite some months ago, and he loved that feeling of safety and home that same smell gave him. Mrs. Woollingworth always made the same comment when she climbed into her bed and had freshly washed sheets in place. As she breathed in their soft, familiar scent, she said, oh, it smelled like home. While Diesel was enjoying giving the tour of his favourite places for sleeping, he was beginning to feel more than a little tired. In each one he had demonstrated the most comfortable position, just how he curled his tail and pointed his ears and arranged his whiskers, and had been at the point of falling asleep when the Cleanbot had found a problem. He eased himself from beneath the blanket and headed for the living room, believing that at last he could show off a spot that would present no issues at all. He leapt from the floor to the sofa and from the sofa to the top of the easy chair, where he showed how he could push down the cushions if he needed them just so, and pushed with all his weight, creating a nest that looked out over the little high street and gave him ideas for daydreams. Diesel was just explaining how it was the perfect spot because he could see the high street and the kitchen and the top of the stairs, and he was never in the way of Mrs. Woollingworth because she never had any interest in sitting on top of the back of the easy chair. When the Cleanbot interrupted him one final time. It looks like a wonderful spot, dear fellow. It. It really does. But how on earth am I meant to get up there? I can move hither and thither. I can move this way and that, but I can't jump. And I'm fairly sure I won't ever be able to either. Diesel sighed and had to agree. The CleanBot 3000 had yet another good argument in place. He was worried. For the Cleanbot, napping and sleeping were about the most important things in Diesel's life, and he couldn't for a moment imagine not being able to do either. We'll need to find you your very own special place, he decided at last. It needs to be cosy and warm, preferably in a square of sunlight, if you can manage that. And I do love somewhere with a view. You need to make it your very own somehow, so it becomes your safe place and your very own corner of home. You can't have it in the bathroom, can you? And I think the kitchen is probably out for you too. My bed is in there already, and Mrs. Willingworth is very particular about where everything goes in there. So let's explore the bedroom and the living room. I'm sure we'll find somewhere that works perfectly for you. Together, Diesel and the Cleanbot moved slowly around the little flat above. Where there's a wool, There's a way. Sometimes the Cleanbot would think he had found a peaceful little corner to call his own, but Diesel would point out that it either didn't catch the sunlight or didn't have a view, or was somewhere that Mrs. Willingworth liked to put down a bag or her shoes, or opened out an umbrella when it needed to dry off after an outing in a wet outside world. Just as they were despairing of ever finding the place the Cleanbot could truly call home, Diesel stumbled across the perfect corner. He turned around and around and tested it, checking for a view. Yes, there was a good view to the top of the stairs so the Cleanbot could see when Mrs. Willingworth was coming home and could even see out through the window in the front door of the shop and catch a glimpse of the world outside. He lay down and licked out his paws, and yes, there was plenty of room for turning and rearranging and finding exactly the right angles. He even noted with something of a smile that there was an outlet right there so the Cleanbot would be able to have a sleep while he charged himself up, ready for his next round of cleaning the soft carpets. Diesel beckoned the Cleanbot to his place, tucked away beneath the easy chair, and moved aside so the little vacuum cleaner could test it out. The Cleanbot spun around and around, turning just as he had seen the cat do in his bed and on top of the chair, creating a little groove in the deep carpet that hugged him close and warm when he settled down in it. He carefully sniffed at the wall behind him and then breathed in deeply, the scent of lavender, a result of Mrs. Willingworth accidentally spilling a bottle of lavender water some years before, the scent still lingering in the air. It was peaceful and warm, soft and cosy, and the Cleanbot flickered his lights to show his approval. You'll need to share with the dust bunnies, said Diesel. The Cleanbot whirled around and saw them all curled up, sleeping against the wall in soft grey and white mounds. They looked like little clouds that had drifted into place. It's my first home, said the vacuum cleaner, and it's all the lovelier for having others to share it with. If you're sure they'll be OK with me being here. Diesel reassured him that the dust bunnies were gentle souled and he'd just need to take care to trundle around them when he was on cleaning duty. Diesel jumped back onto the sofa and across to the top of the easy chair, climbing back into the burrow he had made just moments before. He called down a quiet good night to the Cleanbot and smiled to himself as a little good night was sent back to him. Diesel didn't need to look out to the high street for dream ideas. That evening he just ran through in his mind all his favourite places to sleep. The corner where the sunlight poured into the bedroom in the mornings. The soft hug of the Green Beret. Cosy in the dark beneath the bed. The warm damp air that drifted in white clouds from the bath. His bed filled with cushions and blankets and pillows. And here, right here, in a space that was soft and safe and warm and smelled just like Mrs. Willingworth did. It smelled like home.
- [29:05]
B
Sam.