← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Immy & The Meaning Of Home 👧🏼✨ Soothing Family Story For Kids
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Narrator
Hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, a podcast of original children's bedtime stories and meditations designed to make bedtime a dream. Now we are all in for such a wonderful bedtime story tonight and I know someone who will be especially pleased. She is our newest Coco Clubber and she's Katie May, now 10 years old, living up in the north of England and she is a huge fan of Immi. So imagine how pleased I was to see that Jane has written a new chapter for us just in time for your shout out. That is serendipity working its magic for us. Thank you for subscribing. Feel free to tell all of your friends about Immy and her new life in the White House. It's such a good series, especially for our slightly older listeners tonight. Then, let's get back to the tower block. Everyone there seems to be thinking all about the same thing and that is home. They're all mulling over the concept and it might be because there's an artist in the building who's making an amazing mural all about what makes a house a home. 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. Have you ever looked up at the stars and wondered, is there life on other planets? It's really happening. I knew aliens were looking for Disney and Pixar. Welcome to the community verse. Allow me to adjust your gravity. Oh, high five. Gravity off. Wow. We are not. This is awesome. Alone. Are you gonna eat me? Ew. What kind of alien are you? Disney and Pixar's Elio rated PG parental guidance. Suggested only in theaters June 20th. Tickets available now. 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 baby's 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. So let's see. And whilst we listen, maybe you'll have a few thoughts of your own. But just a word of advice, don't think too hard. Let your thoughts go if they're keeping you awake. It is bedtime, after all, and you're sleepy, I'm sure, so you can always save it for tomorrow. Anyway, let's get in the snoozy mood by wriggling, sliding, and writhing around in bed until your body is just ready to stop with a big sigh. Sighing, by the way, is always a great way to tell your body it's time to relax. Should we try one? Lovely One more. Breathe in and great. It's now time for me to begin Immy and the Meaning of Home by Jane Thomas Today's story starts right at the very top of the White House. No, not the one where the President lives. This is the White House where Immy lives, all the way up in apartment 46B, so high that she can see beyond the park and the town and across the farmer's fields dotted with sheep and cows, and all the way to distant mountains. More often than not, when she steps out onto her balcony in the morning to say hello to the world, she finds herself at eye level with the birds, who are busy going about their day. Immi likes to imagine that as the birds rush by, they put in an extra flap of their wings as they fly by, which is really a wave to her. Immi is on the rooftop of the White House, a slightly forgotten space that's just a load of tiles that shine when it rains and a series of rails all around the sides. Since every apartment comes with its own balcony, and all the apartments together share a vast communal garden, nobody really has much use for the rooftop. Immi and her friend Billy regard it as quite their own, if truth be told, and today they're lying up there, side by side, hands tucked under their heads, flat on their backs as they look at a cloudless sky. It's a whole year today since I moved here, says Immy. Exactly one whole year. Her mind wanders back to 23 Buttercup Drive and the garden lined with neatly clipped hedgerows, and she remembers lying just this way in the grass, only back then she had nobody alongside her. Billy turns on his side, propping his head up with an arm, and looks at his friend. What was it like moving home? He asks. Billy can't begin to imagine. He's lived in the tower block since he was born. Immi thinks about it for a while, watching a kestrel floating up on a breeze, drifting gently this way and that in the warm wind. I suppose, she says at last. It was scary at first. She turns on her side to face Billy. But not for long, she adds with a grin. I found Nya and Mr. And Mrs. Chan and Mrs. Snugglewump. I mean Mal. Imi trails off and leaves the silence, knowing Billy will be the first to break it. Oi, he says, kicking her leg lightly. And you met me. Immi rolls on her back and lets out a big sigh. Yes, she said. We all have difficult things to deal with. She glances across at him and bursts out laughing as Billy pretends to be terribly offended, sticking out his bottom lip and trying his hardest to pout before joining in the laughter. And suddenly Immi is terribly serious for a terribly beautiful day, one where it's too hot to really think sensibly about anything. It's odd, isn't it, what makes a house a home? I never really thought about it until we moved one day. We had one home and then we had a totally different one. Nothing about them is the same, but they're both home. They both watch the kestrel in silence. Billy is busy trying to think of something very clever to say because it feels as if it's one of those moments, but nothing's coming to mind. He keeps opening his mouth to start a sentence and nothing comes out. Fortunately, he's spared having to come up with anything because the door that leads to the top of the stairs and bangs open and Jemima from apartment 46D appears. She staggers across the rooftop, panting extra dramatically, and flings herself down beside Billy and Immi. I guessed you two would be up here. Simon's got some ice cream. Want some? Billy and Immy are up in a moment, each hauling on one of Jemima's hands to get her upright again, and they drag her across to the stairwell and then bustle her down the four flights of stairs. As they enter apartment 46D, Simon stands in the doorway and hands them each a bowl filled almost to overflowing with ice cream, a huge squirt of cream and a dollop of chocolate sauce on the top. This, said Jemima, tucking into her ice cream with gusto, is what home is all about, knowing you have your favourite food tucked away in the cupboards and freezer and you can have it whenever you want? Immy and Billy exchanged a look. It was funny that Jemima happened to mention that about home just when they'd been talking about it. Immy dared to ask Simon what he thought home meant. He seemed a bit surprised and screwed up his head to think for a minute. Home is knowing there are good friends just around the corner who are ready to share ice cream with you, he said with a smile. Immy blushed a little and smiled, busying herself by attacking the big blob of strawberry ice cream in her bowl. She never thought she'd know people like Simon and Jemima, who spent their lives travelling as much of the world as they could and having all sorts of adventures, and she definitely never thought they'd refer to her as a good friend. Moving to 46B the White House had been a very lucky thing after all. Billy suggested they go and dabble their legs in the pond in the shared garden, and they left, Jemima and Simon poring over maps and planning their next trip. As ever, Billy and Immy took the stairs rather than the elevator. It was much more interesting seeing what everyone did on their little landings, looking at the decorations and plants that had been left out. On the 33rd floor they stopped to admire the mural, the one with elephants lounging in fountains and zebras trying on bow ties and whales in waistcoats watching a seal in a shimmering silver ball gown singing on a stage. Immy was tracing her finger along the back of a kangaroo when someone emerged from 33A. He was wearing shorts and a T shirt and both were absolutely covered in paint, and as if to complete the confirmation that he must be the artist who created the mural, he was holding a paintbrush in one hand. The three had never formally met before, but the artist who liked to sit on his balcony and gossip with the neighbours, including Billy and Immi's parents, guessed that this must be Immy and Billy he'd heard so much about. It turned out his name was Antoine and he'd come here all the way from France some years before. Paris? Asked Immi, eyes shining with excitement. Antoine shook his head. It turned out he was from a place called Avignon and he popped back into his apartment to return moments later with a handful of postcards. They showed castles made of the whitest stone and a bridge arching out across the river turned golden with the setting sun. They showed cobbles and turrets and squares draped in trees and cafes that spilled into the outside world with tiny painted tables and chairs. Immi couldn't believe he'd given up all that for the White House, wonderful as it was, eh? He said with a shrug of his shoulders. A Camille for love. Immi smiled, and Billy mimed being sick in the corner. Antoine laughed. One day, young man, he said with his hand on Billy's shoulder, you too will move for love. When you find love, you find om. A look suddenly crossed Antoine's face, and he seemed to have a quick internal argument with himself before deciding yes, he would say it after all. Are you too busy? He asked. Immi and Billy exchanged a look. We were just going to the park to put our legs in the pond, she said. He's so hot, so not really that busy. No. Perhaps, said Antoine, you can elp me. Antoine explained with many waves of his paintbrush as he talked and excitedly waved his hands about that. He had been asked by Those on floor 24 to paint them a mural too, but they had been very specific and they had said they wanted a mural that summed up the meaning of home. Antoine said that he'd heard how Immi and Billy knew almost everyone in the building and how everyone liked them, and perhaps they could help him with his research. He needed to know, he said, what home meant to people. Billy whispered to Immy that it was really weird how everyone was talking about the same thing that day and it was beginning to freak him out more than a little, and Immi glared at him and whispered back that it wasn't freaky at all, it was a sign, a clear sign that they were supposed to help Antoine. There was some more furious whispering back and forth before they both stood upright, turned to Antoine with smiles on their faces, and formally held out their hands to shake on it. Well, do it, they said together, and Antoine said, ooh la la, this was excellent, and darted back into 33A to grab them a notebook and pen. Immi and Billy agreed that while they wanted to help the artist, it was also ridiculously hot and they needed to go and dangle their legs in the pond before they could begin to help. They ran and skipped and hopped and jumped their way down the rest of the stairs and raced across the grass towards the pond. They sat on the bank and plunged their legs up to their knees into the cool water, feet disappearing into the soft mud at the bottom. Immie watched as tadpoles started gathering around her legs, black tails flickering as they worked their way around the water. On the far side, ducks quacked, one duck stood up from a nest and another duck came and took her place, settling down onto the eggs and keeping them warm. Him. He opened the notebook and wrote her first answer for Antoine home is where children are. As if to confirm that, a frog came hopping out and started rounding up some of the tadpoles. Himmy kept her legs in the water but lay her back flat on the ground in the shade. The grass was wonderfully cool and soft and she closed her eyes. Billy lay back next to her and did the same. It was such a beautiful day with a warm soft breeze and the grass was gloriously cool and the water so refreshing on their legs and it was easy for them both to drift towards sleep in a matter of moments. Immi was right there in one of those daydreams where you aren't quite sure if you're asleep or awake and everything gets a little bit muddled together when a football bounced right beside their heads and then leapt into the pond with a splash. Both of them sat upright and they heard the thundering feet of someone running towards them. Sorry, said a blushing boy, reaching towards the ball and rescuing it from the pond. He ran back towards his father, who also waved by way of apology, and then took the ball from his son. Time to go home, they heard the father say. Time for tea. I think your mum and sister will be waiting. Immi reached for the book again. Home is where we eat with our family, she wrote, and then, remembering the ice cream with Jemima and Simon, she added on the end, and friends. They waited in the park for another half an hour hoping that more meanings of home would magically show themselves as these others had, but eventually they decided to head back towards the White House. It was so warm that their legs were dry by the time they reached the huge entrance door, Billy hauling it back and bowing with a dramatic flourish as he held it for Immy to pass through. Why thank you kind sir, she said with a giggle and he held himself bolt upright as he said, not at all, my lady, not at all in as serious a voice as he could manage. They decided to knock on random doors as they went back up the building and asked the question, what does home mean to you? The first door they knocked on was painted green and came complete with a brass knocker in the shape of a little curled up fist. It was opened by a lady who smiled but looked confused when they asked their question and she called out in a language they didn't understand for her husband to join her. He also smiled but didn't seem to know what they were asking, so he called out and a young girl, even younger than Immy and Billy appeared. Immi asked the question again and the girl translated for her parents. She smiled awkwardly as she waited for their response, playing with the hem of her dress and then translating what they asked her to say. They say that home means safety, she said. Sorry. I learnt English in school. They are learning it slowly. They ask me to apologise for not understanding you. Immy beamed at the three standing in the doorway. Thank you, she said, putting her hand on her heart and saying it over and over. She carefully wrote the answer in the notebook once the door was closed. The next door they decided to knock on was a few doors up. It was covered in pictures of flowers and spaceships, a very odd combination, Immi thought, and she was curious to know what sort of person lived behind that door. A young woman opened it, her bright purple hair standing up on her head as if it was startled. She wore a pink skirt and a sunshine yellow top, her feet thrust into giant blue slippers in the shape of bunny rabbits. She grinned when Immi asked her question. Home is where I can be me, she said. Beyond her in the passageway, Immi could see dozens of vases overflowing with flowers, and on the walls was paper that had hundreds of tiny space rockets launching themselves into dark blue space. Before they left, the young woman presented a rose to Immy and tucked it behind her ear for her, and after a bit of thought put a dramatic spray of cornflowers on the edge of Billy's cowboy hat. A few floors up they knocked on another door. To the left of the door were leaning a number of fishing rods, and to the right sat a wicker basket. When an old man opened the door, a distinct smell of fish came out of the apartment with him. He wore jeans so old looking that Immi swore they must be among the first pairs ever made, and a checkered shirt, and his long grey hair was tied up in a simple band at the back. Who is it, love? Called a woman from the back, who came forwards in a very similar outfit. In fact, the two looked almost identical, Immi decided. Those children from up above asking about the meaning of home, he said. The woman pushed her way forwards past her husband. See them there rods? She pointed, and Immi and Billy nodded. And that there basket, she said. They nodded again. Home is a little bit of peace, she said. For me when he's out the house and for him when he's sitting by the river with his fishing rod. They both laughed at the joke, and Immi smiled as she carefully wrote it into her book. The couple in their worn denim jeans and checkered shirts exchanged a quick Kiss. Just so as you know, the woman added. I wouldn't change him for the world, fishy smell and all. Billy pointed to the previous line in the book, home is where I can be me, and Immi nodded at him. By the time they returned the notebook to Antoine, they had a whole series of comments from people. Home didn't need to be a particular place, they found out. Nobody had said their apartment, the building, was home. Everyone had talked about how it made them feel to check their theory. Immi and Billy had even managed to convince Immi's mother to come with them as they left the white house and walked along the streets with the big houses that were nearby. Whether someone lived in something that looked like a mansion or the smallest apartment in the tower blocks, they all answered the same sort of thing to Immi's question. Home was where you felt safe and loved and happy and could be you and where the people you loved were. Anything can be a house, pointed out one man, gesturing towards his sons who were busy trying to put up a tent on the lawn, but it takes love to turn it into a home. Antoine was delighted with the notebook they presented, especially the additions they'd made in the park when they'd watched the tadpoles and the ducks. He started talking excitedly about animals that migrate and move around the world, sometimes travelling thousands of miles in a year in order to keep changing their home to the best place available at the time. Immy thought back to 23 Buttercup Drive again, and how hard it had been to pack everything into boxes and move to 46B, the White House. She thought about the person she was when they had lived in the house before and who she was now living in the small apartment, and she realised how happy she was now with all these new people around her who added so much to her life. A few days later, Immi and Billy walked down the stairs to level 24 to see what Antoine had done with his mural. They sat down on the bottom step and looked and looked, wondering at all the detail he had added to his piece that sprawled across the walls and was starting to spill down the stairs towards the 23rd floor too. There were homes that were little more than huts and homes that were palaces with turrets and towers, and homes that were cottages covered in roses, and homes that looked just like the white house with balconies spilling over with flowers and bicycles. There were homes balanced in the branches of trees and homes made from canvas, homes in the heart of cities and homes halfway up mountainsides, and as Immi looked more closely she saw that inside every single home, somebody was sleeping. They were curled up in beds, heads nestled onto pillows, blankets pulled up to chins, some with a cat in a ball at the foot of the bed, some with a dog spread and sprawled around its owner. And in the branches of trees were nests where birds slept and burrows went underground where rabbits and badgers and foxes slept. Because home was the place where you were so safe and warm and loved that you could bury yourself in bed and fall asleep knowing that in the morning, everything would be just as you left it the night before. Home is your space, your place, and even if you move, you still get to take it with you. It's a feeling, not a thing. And that makes it one of the most magical, wonderful, special places in all the world. Sam Ra.