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Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
The Lost Property Turtle Finds Zen 🐢🐡 Relaxing Bedtime Stories For Kids
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Hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, a podcast of original bedtime stories and sleep meditations for kids designed to make bedtime a dream. We're welcoming with bells and whistles galore into the Koko Club tonight, a girl who listens every night from New South Wales, Australia. Hi, Elodie. And happy birthday to Ripley. She turns eight today. Today. Well, I hope it's been a good one. Thanks for subscribing both of you. It is great to have you both here and I'm overjoyed you're such big fans of the stories. I'm sure tonight's is not going to disappoint you because it stars one of our most loved characters. He's cool, he's calm, he's collected and he's oh so kind he's everyone's wise friend and he turns up when they need him most. Yes, it's Zen he's such a positive little fish. In fact, I love the line in this story where he reminds us that there's a whole lot of wonderful in the world. So no matter what thoughts you're having and how they make you feel, you should always make room for that one too. For there is a whole lot of wonderful to be found in the world. 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. Ok, back to tonight's story then. We will be visiting the quiet winter shores of Harmony Cove, where Michelle, the lost property turtle, is feeling a bit low. But help's on the way in the form of Zen the pufferfish. With the loyal Bill the seagull by his side, Michelle sets off on an unexpected journey beneath the waves. Because even in the stillness of winter, there's magic to be found, if you remember where to look. So you snuggle down as I begin the Lost Property Turtle Finds Zen by Jane Thomas. Tonight we're visiting Harmony Cove, that sweeping golden sand bay that is far and away the most popular swimming beach of those who live in Sleepy Forest. In the summertime, the path that winds its way down the cliffs to the beach is surrounded by wildflowers. But now in the winter, it's just a brown, slightly muddy, slightly slippery route that hardly anyone takes. And in the summertime, the beach is covered in towels and little tents and there are games of volleyball and cricket and sandcastles line up alongside each other with flags poking out of the tops. But now, in the winter, hardly anyone is ever here. The sea is grey, with rolling waves reaching up and down the beach, rushing across the sand and pulling it and the seashells this way and that. Sometimes somebody will walk along the edge, their shoulders hunched, their hands deep in pockets, collar turned up against the wind as they pick their way along the shore. And on those winter days when the sun manages to shine, sometimes a group of brave and hardy creatures will head down with a picnic and sit there eating sandwiches in the wind, blankets flapping about them as they watch the seagulls dancing overhead. Whichever day of the year you visit Harmony Cove, though, one thing is for certain, Michelle the lost property turtle, will be there gathering up everything he finds things washed up by the waves or left behind by the visitors, and he will carefully stow it in the safety of his stall. Buckets go in the bucket box, spades in the spade box, and odds and ends in the odds and ends drawer. Michelle loves nothing more than reuniting someone with their lost property, and he has sometimes dedicated hours of his life to finding a single lost hair clip or a missing lunchbox. It's all worth it for the smiles and heartfelt thank yous he's given. But in the winter, with hardly any visitors to the beach, Michelle has very little to do. He sighs as he walks slowly back and forth across the sand, up and down and to and fro, this way and that way and sometimes the other way, checking to see if there's anything, anything that has been left behind. Bill the seagull sometimes walks with him and sometimes flies overhead, his wingtips fluttering in the wind and keeping him steady. He tried cheering Michelle up a few times by disappearing to other beaches and coming back with bits and pieces he'd found on them, hiding them in strange corners of Harmony Cove. So for a few moments, Michelle's eyes would light up at the sight of new lost property and he'd bustle over to his stall with it. But Bill did this too many times on days when nobody at all visited the COVID and it wasn't long before Michelle figured it out. They tried playing hopscotch to pass the time, Bill marking out on the sand where they must hop and jump, and Michelle fetching seashells to throw into the squares. That passed a few hours one afternoon, but they soon grew tired of it. They tried skimming stones, but the sea refused to lie flat, a constant line of waves rolling in towards the shore. And try as they might, the stones could give no more than a bounce or two before disappearing to the bottom of the sea. They gathered driftwood and dried it in the sun, lighting fires in the centre of a ring of stones in the evenings and melting marshmallows on the ends of sticks as the stars started to light up the sky. Those were good evenings, when the rain stayed away and the fire could shine and the flames dance and shimmer and Michelle and Bill told each other stories as they sat curled up beneath cosy blankets. But Michelle found the winter hard. He always had, he realised, looking back. The days were shorter and the nights were longer and he saw fewer and fewer people out on the beach. And hardly any reason to speak to anybody other than his faithful friend Bill, who turned up day in, day out. He organised the lost buckets and spades by colour and size. He fixed everything that was broken and tidied up the lengths of rope and twine he'd found and tried weaving some into baskets with very little success. Each day his sighs were bigger and longer. And each day Bill tried to put a smile back on Michelle's face. But it became harder and harder. I'm afraid I'm out of puff, said Michelle one day, sitting down in the middle of the beach and looking around himself. I'll just stay here for a while. It was one of those words that lit up an idea in Bill's brain. He remembered hearing tales of Zen the pufferfish, and wondered if such an animal could help another regain their lost puff. Bill started flying further and further from the COVID looking out for abandoned newspapers so he could read all the advertisements and see if something didn't come up. For Zen the pufferfish, it took a few weeks and a lot of reading about sofas on sale and budget breaks with albatross air before he finally came across what he wanted. Bill read the advert aloud to himself, a smile growing on his face. When you're in a huff and you're all out of puff, when you've had enough and things are tough. Cause then when days are dull and your life's in a lull, when you're feeling small wrapped in a ball, Call Zen. Bring the wisdom of the ocean to your home. Zen is only ever one conch call away. Bill carefully noted down the dial code for Zen the pufferfish. He was to stand on the shore with his conch, the cone shaped shell traditionally used by all sea creatures to call others and give three quick blasts, then three long blasts, then another three quick blasts, then he must wait a little and try again. If he didn't get a response by the end of the day, Bill wasn't entirely sure what sort of response he expected, but he went down to Harmony Cove, and after saying goodnight to Michelle and making sure the turtle was curled up safe and warm in his bed, Bill waddled down to the seashore and searched for a conch. They didn't take him long. He dragged it across the sand with his beak to the rocks on the southern edge of the COVID Balancing the huge shell on a ledge, Bill blew three quick blasts, then three long ones, then another three quick ones, and then he sat down to wait. It was only moments later that he saw a dolphin leaping up through the waves, and he wasn't sure at first, but soon realised the dolphin was headed his way. The dolphin shimmered silver by the light of the moon, the sea pouring from his body as he leapt high across the water. He came to a halt a few yards from Bill's perch, rising up out of the sea and holding himself there with a questioning look on his face. Um, Zen? Ventured Bill, a little unsure. The dolphin grinned at him. Think of me as Zen's secretary, he said. He's out on a call at the moment, but tell me how he can help and he'll be with you as soon as he can. The dolphin glanced up and down the shoreline to check nobody else was listening, then leaned in a little closer to Bill. He held up his flipper and whispered behind it. As you can imagine, in the winter especially, Zen is extremely busy. Bill nodded solemnly. He wasn't quite sure why the winter should be so much worse than any other time of year, but if everyone reacted the way Michelle did, he could well believe it was true. He explained to the dolphin that his friend was down in the dumps dealing with the grumps, and he thought perhaps Zen could help him. Perhaps, said the dolphin, and then laughed. Change that perhaps into an absolutely old chap. Shall we say first thing tomorrow morning? Bill was about to agree when he remembered Michelle could get extra grumpy if he was woken too early in the day. The dolphin saw the hesitation and leapt in to change the plan. How about early afternoon, right after lunch? Bill smiled with relief. That would be perfect, he said, and the dolphin whipped out a seaweed notebook, a pot of squid ink a and a pen made from an albatross feather jotting something down from far down the coast. The distinct sound of a conch drifted towards them. Three short blasts, three long ones and three short ones, and the dolphin bade Bill a quick farewell. De oody caws, he said as he leapt through the waves. Zen's answer machine never sleeps. The next morning passed slowly. Oh my goodness, so slowly. Bill kept checking the horizon for any sign of Zen, and Michelle kept checking Bill for checking the horizon and wondering what it was he sought out there. Look, he said at last, with a little bit of a huff in his voice. If you want to go, just go. Goodness, no, said Bill. Just waiting for a visitor, that's all. Come on, let's do one more lap of the beach just in case someone flying over has dropped something. You never know. And so they walked slowly around the beach, turning over shells and looking beneath rocks in case anything had become trapped. They found a colourful beach ball on the shore that could have rolled or floated in from almost anywhere, and Michelle carefully patted it with his flippers all the way back to the stall and put it in the ball box. Someday somebody would want it back, he was sure of that, and it would be waiting for them when they did. As they swallowed the final bite of their picnic lunch and Michelle was just dabbing at the edges of his mouth with his napkin, Bill saw something bobbing about on the shoreline and half flew and half ran to greet it. For there was Zen the pufferfish, true to the dolphin's word, turning up right after lunch and ready to see if he couldn't help Michelle. Her first Michelle let Bill talk with whoever it was bobbing about in the sea, and he took care to fold his napkin and put away the picnic basket and roll up the rug. But Bill was still talking, so with something of a sigh, Michelle decided to walk down and join them. He usually loved talking with anyone and everyone, but truth be told, he was feeling more than a little gloomy today. He tried to swallow all that gloom and put on his brightest smile. As he approached the pair, Bill introduced Zen and Michelle, and Michelle didn't have to fake a smile when he said, goodness, how special. He'd heard of Zen, of course, and was honoured to meet him. Working nearby. Michelle asked. He didn't notice Bill and Zen exchange a quick look. Close enough, said the pufferfish carefully. Fancy coming for a float with me? The sea was grey and it looked cold, but Michelle could hardly refuse the chance to swim with someone as famous as Zen the pufferfish. He looked across at Bill, who spread his wings wide. I think I'll float overhead, if you don't mind, said the seagull, wriggling his feet. Water looks a little cold for my toes, Today. And before Michelle or Zen could argue, Bill flew far up and far out, waving to them from the safety of his flying spot. Far away, far away. Michelle headed into the water, catching his breath with the cold. Breathe slowly, said Zen in a still, calm voice. Listen to me. Breathe in and hold it for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And now let's breathe out for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Michelle tried his hardest to do as Zen asked, but he found himself breathing too quickly in and far too quickly out. Let's keep trying, said Zen gently. Nobody gets everything right the very first time, do they? Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And now let's breathe out for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out. Michelle found his breathing, slowing to match Zen's. Already he felt more calm than he had for weeks. Now let's stretch out your flippers, said Zen. Keep breathing slowly, but feel everything all the way to the ends of your flippers, pointing them as if they were fingers and toes. And now relax them. And let's try that again. Point your flippers, pushing your fingers and toes as far and wide as you can. And now relax them. One more time. Point your flippers, point your invisible fingers and toes and spread them far and wide and relax them. Michelle felt all the knots and frustrations of the previous weeks slowly leaving his body as he stretched and relaxed. He closed his eyes and listened to his breathing, taking as long as he could to breathe in and as long as he could to breathe out. Breathing in and breathing out. Breathing in and breathing out. Zen nudged Michelle, who opened his eyes and saw the pufferfish was headed beneath the waves, so Michelle followed him. The sun had come out, and the sunbeams dived into the sea, pouring light into the ocean. The path on the cliff may be brown and muddy and empty, but here, beneath the surface of the sea were all the colours of the rainbow, dancing and swaying as if it was the middle of summer. They saw whole forests of coral, pink and blue and purple, delicate fronds that moved this way and that with the currents of the ocean. And there were huge, soft sofas of coral as pink as the setting sun. Big billowing mounds with little groups of swaying anemones here and jostling clownfish there. Parrotfish, flashes of blue and purple and yellow darted around in the underwater world. A shoal of a thousand, no, ten thousand silver fish moved as one, rising and falling together, moving left and right, up and down in a single movement as they went from one cove to the next. And Far away on the sandy bottom of the sea, Michelle looked down and saw crabs moving to and fro, organising little piles of rocks and making themselves hidey holes. So once they were inside, he had no idea any longer that they held a crab. A seal swirled past, twirling his whiskers and waving to Michelle and Zen, blowing big fat bubbles as he rose to the surface and crashing back into the ocean. With a mass of white foam and a billion champagne bubbles bursting around him, Michelle swam slowly and gently through the scene, remembering to breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out. How could he have forgotten that there was this whole other world going on just a few yards from his cove? Just because his little corner was quiet in the winter months didn't mean everywhere had come to an end. The world was still turning. Creatures were still living. Life was still going on in its beautiful, colourful, magical way. Zen led Michelle through the waving seaweed, huge green forests that brushed gently against his shell, as soft as if they were a cloud. They emerged on the other side to find oysters polishing their pearls, each one a perfect drop of silver white gleaming in the sunbeams that still dived towards the ocean floor. And then there was an octopus playing catch with a baby octopus. Only wait. She was playing eight games of catch all at once, each of her arms fielding the balls from a different baby octopus, never once missing a ball, never once throwing one back to the wrong baby octopus. Michelle watched as the arms danced in perfect harmony, never too fast and never too slow, just moving all the time this way and that, somehow knowing exactly where they needed to be. He saw the flash of a mermaid's tail as she danced into the distance, blue silver scales shimmering and long golden hair weaving and waving. And then there was another, and another, and he watched as they twirled and whirled towards the surface, heads back and laughing and arms reaching out to grasp the outside world, fingers pointing towards the air. Once more, Michelle pointed his flippers and spread them wide as if they were fingers and toes, pushing them out and then relaxing them again, feeling every anxious thought leave his body in the simple movement. Zen looked across and smiled as he saw Michelle doing this without being asked. As they came to the surface together, Michelle saw Bill hovering overhead, looking as if he was trying to peer beneath the waves to see what was going on. Michelle grinned, his first real grin in weeks and waved up to Bill. Zen bobbed alongside Michelle as they went slowly back towards the shore together, the two of them easing themselves across the surface as they headed to the beach. You know, said Zen slowly and thoughtfully, it's very easy to forget sometimes that even if we can't easily see it, there's a whole lot of wonderful in the world. Michelle nodded, looking up at the sky, seeing the sun sink lower and lower in the distance, a red ball disappearing into the sea and pouring pink and orange and yellow onto the water. I often find that if I take a few moments just to remember that, said Zen, I feel a whole lot better about things and I slow everything down. If we think about an entire winter, that feels like a terribly long time. But if we think about a single day, or just an hour, or sometimes only a minute, that doesn't feel like so very long at all. Michelle nodded again. What the pufferfish was saying was, of course, absolutely true. He needed moments, not months. That was what counted. The sun was now all but gone, and Michelle looked up to see that there were stars in the velvet blue sky, silver sparkles twinkling more than a million miles away. I think if I can make a beautiful minute, said Zen as the pair of them reached the shore, then that is a minute that hasn't been lost. If I forget sometimes or find it hard to see something good in the world, then I take a minute to remember everything there is under the sea that is just there, whether we can see it or not. Busy being beautiful it doesn't need to be beautiful, does it? Coral would still be coral if it wasn't pink or purple or blue, waving like a fan, or big and plump like a sofa. It could do the exact same thing if it was just brown and dull and square. But it isn't, and that's all sorts of wonderful, isn't it? Michel smiled across at the pufferfish as he walked slowly out of the sea to join his friend Bill, now waiting on the sand. Thank you, he said, and I mean it. Thank you for reminding me. Zen just nodded and said as he floated away, find me anytime. We'll go for a float together and see something wonderful. Bill and Michelle lit a driftwood fire that night, a circle of stones keeping the dancing flames safe, and in there was cherry wood that made the smoke smell sweet, and applewood that made the fire all the colours of the rainbow as it burned, and Michelle supposed that those things weren't necessary, not really, but they were there, and they were that little bit of magic waiting to be found, and he sat back and looked up at the stars and imagined all those creatures for thousands of years doing exactly as he was now, counting stars and making them into shapes and stories, and he supposed they didn't have to be there either, but they were, twinkling and sparkling and shining from far, far away. He breathed in and he breathed out, and he felt his eyes close and his head leaned back on his pillow, and he turned this way and then that, and he felt Bill place the blanket over him and pull it up to his chin, and Michelle smiled as he drifted off to sleep. And here's to the bills of the world, the friends who look out for us, the ones who care for us, the ones who notice when we're down and lift us to the highest heights. May we know them and may we be them.