← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
The Sleepy Gingerbread Man 🍪 💤 Cozy Bedtime Stories For Kids
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Foreign. Hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, a podcast of original bedtime stories and sleep meditations for kids designed to make bedtime a dream. As always, I'm shouting out our newest annual subscribers right now. Now, don't forget, if you're in the Coco Club, you can listen to all of the hundreds of premium stories without any interruptions or ads. And that's why it's brilliant you've joined us, Orly and Arwen, Fern and Winnie in Arlington, Virginia, Isiah Brooks, who's seven and I must say I was very pleased to hear from you that listening each night helps you feel calm and a tiny bit sleepy. My job here is done. I do hope you get to hear the end of this one though, but it might be a bit challenging because it's a super sleepy one about a super sleepy Gingerbread man. Yep, soon we're heading to Betty the Badger's Bakery. On a snowy night in Sleepy Forest, the scent of freshly baked gingerbread fills the air. And when one magical biscuit suddenly comes to life, the sleepy Gingerbread man sets off on a cosy quest to find the perfect place to rest his sleepy head. Any ideas where that might be? Whilst you have a little think about it, why not lie yourself down in your bed and have a stretch? That's right. Stretch your arms above your head and wiggle your fingers while stretching your legs out and pointing your toes. Hold for a second and then release. Lovely. And again. Stretch. Hold as you breathe in and relax once more. Breathe, stretch and clench everything and then relax. You've got it. Perfect. Before we begin, a quick message for the grown ups. If you'd like to support Our Podcast Enjoy Ad Free Listening Unlock 4 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. This is the Sleepy Gingerbread man by Sarah Kate Howarth. It was a wintry, cozy night in Sleepy Forest. An icy wind whistled through the treetops and snowflakes twirled through the air, scattering glitters of frost below. A carpet of snow had begun to settle upon the forest floor. Soon the ground would be completely covered, tucked inside a thick ivory quilt. In the distance, the windows of a cosy cottage shone with a warm amber light. Thick ribbons of charcoal smoke billowed from its chimney, unfurling like mist and dissolving like hot breath in the freezing winter air. This could only mean one thing. A fire was roaring inside the cosy little cottage. A warm CRACKLING blazing fire. What an appealing thought on such a dark, wintry night. Shadows passed back and forth behind the glowing window panes, little silhouettes bobbing about, darting this way and that. But who would be up at this time? After all, it was the middle of the night. Surely all the residents of Sleepy Forest were fast asleep in their beds, tucked under their cosy covers and snuggly blankets. And come to think of it, what was that delicious smell surfing across the icy wind with a sweet, syrupy scent? Cloves and cinnamon, hints of woody nutmeg and sharp bursts of a familiar spicy warmth trickling in through the treetops like a warm mug of hot chocolate. The tantalising scent seemed to be coming from the cosy cottage. Indeed, the closer you got, the stronger it became. And new notes began to hover on the wind. Whispers of cardamom and caramelised coconut sugar, a dash of molasses and the unmistakably creamy whiff of vanilla. There could only be one person behind such a scrumptious smell. Only one baker cooking up a storm in the middle of the night. That's right. The little cottage with its golden glow was, in fact, Betty the Badger's Bakery, home to the sweetest treats in all of Sleepy Forest. Betty's bakes were utterly delicious, all thanks to her secret ingredients. Everything baked inside those cottage walls was made with love, teamwork and a little sprinkling of family magic. And tonight was no different. Inside her cosy cottage, Betty was padding about the kitchen in her favourite yellow pinafore, humming a jaunty tune under her breath as she piled up the enormous amount of pots and pans to wash up. With the help of her three cubs, Ginger, Chip and Lavender, she'd baked a marvellous batch of gingerbread men, and she'd just this second removed them from the oven. The air shimmered with the fiery smell of ginger and the oven door stood open, warming the kitchen with a cosy exhale of toasty air. The freshly baked gingerbread men lay proudly out on the countertop, gently cooling on a wire rack, ready to be iced by the little badger cubs. Their delicious scent wafted its way around the kitchen and snuck up the chimney, out into the forest to tempt any passers by. Lavender, in a light purple apron, approached the countertop eagerly. Are they cool enough yet? She inquired, raising a paw to one of the gingerbread men's unsuspecting toes and touching it cautiously. Betty chuckled. Well, do they still feel hot to the touch? Lavender shook her head. Not to me. She smiled, her eyes shining in the firelight like jewels. Lavender was keen to get started on the next task of decorating. All three badger cubs liked to help out in the kitchen, but Lavender in particular loved the final stage of the baking process, icing her mother's delectable creations. Betty gathered together the icing equipment from an overhead shelf and began to lay everything out neatly on the kitchen island where the cubs could easily reach. All right then, she murmured, smiling down at her daughter. Go and call your brothers Lavender and we can all get started with the icing. Lavender nibbled on her lip in anticipation before skipping off to round up Ginger and Chip. Soon the three badger cubs were happily piping coloured icing into into beautiful shapes under their mother's watchful eye. They look wonderful, remarked Ginger in his sky blue apron, carefully placing gumdrop buttons along one gingerbread man's tummy. I think these are your best bakes ever, Mum. Chip giggled, a mischievous glint in the corner of his chocolate brown eyes. Of course you like gingerbread the best. Ginger. You're named after it, Betty. The badger's face melted into a wide grin and her tummy shook with peals of laughter. It's true, she spluttered. When I was first pregnant, I had such a craving for gingerbread men. I I just couldn't stop baking them. I baked batch after batch. I must have chomped my way through a whole village of gingerbread men. So when you were born, I couldn't think of a better name than Ginger itself. Lavender dabbed a delicate splodge of icing onto the very last gingerbread man and added a jelly bean on top as a finishing touch. There, she whispered, nodding approvingly at the batch adorned with icing candy and a scattering of edible glitter. Don't they look brilliant? Good enough to eat, Chip agreed, licking his lips. Pale sunlight began to drip in through the window panes as the sun rose in Sleepy Forest and the badger cubs began to yawn dozily. Being nocturnal, it was fast approaching their bedtime and their eyes had already started to droop a little in the morning sunlight. Alright, cubs, announced their mother. It's almost morning. Time for bed. But Mum. Began Ginger, his paws twitching as he gazed longingly at the merry band of gingerbread men. Betty chuckled. You can taste those tomorrow, darling, she advised her son kindly but firmly. It's bedtime now. Ginger sighed and hung his apron on the peg next to Chip's. All right, he replied, his eyelids twitching with tiredness as he traipsed up the stairs behind her. Night, night, Mum. Called Lavender from the cub's shared bedroom. Betty poked her head inside the door and saw Lavender and Chip already tucked up in bed. In fact, Chip was already fast asleep, a soft snore escaping from the tip of his snout. She smiled affectionately. Good night, my darlings, she chorused, pulling a snuggly blanket up towards Ginger's chin and stroking his head gently. Sweet dreams of cupcakes and cookies. And remember, there's freshly baked gingerbread to taste tomorrow. Ginger smiled up at his mum happily. He couldn't wait to try one of the gingerbread men and so he shut his eyes obediently, already thinking ahead to the delicious flavours of nutmeg, cinnamon and clove. Betty the badger stayed for a moment or two keeping watch over her little cubs as they drifted off to the Land of Nod. Only when all three cubs were were finally snoozing did she slip away herself across the hallway to her own bedroom where her cosy bed lay waiting. After all that baking, she was certainly due a well deserved rest. She slid in between the sheets and sighed contentedly. There was nothing she loved more than climbing into bed after a long night of work and feeling the embrace of the soft feathery mattress and her snuggly warm quilt. Soon Betty the badger was fast asleep too. Downstairs in the kitchen, the air was still warm with the heat of the oven and the sweet smell of cinnamon hovered in the room like a lingering party guest. The freshly iced gingerbread men lay perfectly still on the stiff wire rack. That is, almost all of them lay perfectly still. If you look closely, you might have noticed a slight tremble of two tiny gingerbread boots and the delicate quiver of two tiny gingerbread hands. Goodness me. One of the gingerbread men was certainly not still. In fact, he was wriggling away on the wire rack as if he'd just awakened from a long and luxurious nap. In a curious case of special wintertime magic, one of the gingerbread men had miraculously come to life. Y He yawned, stretching out his gingerbread biscuit body and tottering up onto his candy covered feet. He licked his lips and let out a soft cooing sound. Oh my, that icing sure was tasty. But he'd better not eat anymore or he'd end up without that friendly smile of his. Carefully iced in a neat loop stretching from ear to ear, his mouth opened into an elongated oval as another enormous yawn escaped from his throat. Hopping gently down from the wire rack, he stood in the morning light and admired the bright gumdrop buttons decorating his gingerbread tummy. He sure looks smart. He gazed over at the other gingerbread men, perfectly still, totally unaffected by whatever spell had magically brought him to life. How peculiar. He began to tiptoe across the kitchen countertop, moving at a snail's pace. Now, gingerbread men were typically pretty nifty movers, quick like lightning and super speedy. After all, you must have heard the famous rhyme, run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man. Well, this particular gingerbread man was anything but speedy. In fact, he was quite the opposite. He staggered from side to side and swayed back and forth dizzily. His neatly iced eyes fluttered and drooped, and his head lolled forwards dozily. This gingerbread man was extremely sleepy. He must have been baked with an extra dollop of drowsiness, a dash of dreaminess, and a generous sprinkling of sleepiness. How else would we end up with such a dozy doe? And from the looks of things, he was mere moments away from falling fast asleep. If only he could find the perfect spot to lay his weary head. Watery winter sunlight streamed in through the window panes, announcing the dawn of another frosty morning in Sleepy Forest, and the sleepy gingerbread man began to totter across the kitchen counter, moving as slowly as an elderly tortoise. His eyes glanced around eagerly, on the lookout for a suitably cosy spot to snuggle up in and fall asleep. He had one thing on his mind, and that was his bed. His eyes shone as they caught sight of a dainty yellow teacup with a delicate golden handle. Now that looked cosy and just the right shape to curl up in. He smiled as he clambered up into the teacup, the fine china providing a perfectly curved slope to lean his spine against. It did feel a little cold against his warm gingerbread body, he had to admit, but the curve of the teacup was ever so comfy, as if he was curled up inside a hammock, and he leaned back blissfully. But as his eyes began to close, he felt a strange sensation beneath his nose, a tickling feeling like a feather was fluttering over his skin. And what's more, it felt a little damp, as if he squinted out of the corner of his left eye where a cloud of steam was collecting under his chin. He blinked, contemplating the misty haze that had surrounded him. Where was all that steam coming from? He hoisted himself up out of the teacup with a gentle grumble. So much for a nice, peaceful kip. He'd end up with a soggy bottom if he stayed in there too long. As he wriggled out of the teacup and stepped gingerly back down onto the kitchen counter, he heard a high pitched whistling sound and looked up to see the kettle merrily bubbling on the stove, releasing clouds of steam into the air. Well, that explains it. Yawned the sleepy gingerbread man, padding over to the stove and clearing his throat. Excuse me. He called up to the whistling kettle, a little indignant. Yes, dear, sang the kettle with a bright, merry soprano. The sleepy gingerbread man blinked. He'd never heard a kettle talk before. The kettle gazed back at him, unfazed. What is it, dear? She coaxed, assuming he'd grown a little shy. The sleepy gingerbread man's eyes widened. It seemed as if the same sprinkling of magic that had brought him to life had extended to a few of the kitchen appliances too. Well, since the kettle could talk, he may as well continue with his line of questioning. Why are you boiling and letting off steam when there's no one around to make tea for? The kettle's joyful whistle cut out and she simmered down, a little upset with herself for getting carried away. Oops. She giggled. Sometimes I just can't help it. The morning light streams in through the window and I automatically think it's time for tea. Are you sure I can't treat you to a lovely hot cup of tea? She noticed his eyes beginning to droop again and winked mischievously. It's ever so soothing to sip on a nice cup of tea before you drift off to sleep, she chorused, wafting her steam across the countertop invitingly. But the sleepy gingerbread man shook his head firmly. I can't fall asleep with all this steam making my gingerbread soggy, he replied, scanning the kitchen for a more suitable spot. His eyes fell upon the pine tabletop where the butter dish lay, its shiny ceramic surface glinting and gleaming in a soft pool of sunlight. The kettle watched sadly as his attention wandered away from the teacup to his next idea. O. He breathed, hopping over from the kitchen counter to the tabletop and siding over towards the butter dish. It did look ever so comfy with its sloping sides and its shallow walls. He smiled, enjoying the feeling of fresh air around him, untouched by the kettle's billowing clouds of steam. He yawned and stretched his arms out wide, shedding a few little crumbs as he clambered into the butter dish and settled down for a snooze. It was certainly a nice shape to lie down in, and the butter made a lovely squishy cushion beneath his spine. He wriggled deeper into the dish and sighed contentedly. The sunshine cast sent sunbeams dripping down onto his gingerbread cheeks like golden syrup and a soft snore escaped his perfectly iced lips. Just as he was falling into a deep slumber, he felt the butter dish slip beneath him and he whizzed out the end and sailed up into the air, landing with a gentle thud on the hard pine of the tabletop. Ouchy. He winced, rubbing his knees tenderly. That butter dish is way too sleepy to fall asleep on. I'd never managed to stay still long enough for a decent nap. He dusted himself off and gazed once more at his surroundings, his brow furrowed in thought. Where do you go for a cosy kip in this place? He murmured, surveying the stacks of plates, piles of washing up, and drawers full of gleaming cutlery. Nothing looked particularly comfy, all sharp prongs and knife edges, cold metallic handles and sticky stains smeared across bowls left over from a rather industrious baking session. A piping bag looked promising at first, all that icing inside made for a rather squishy looking pillow after all, but when he flopped down onto it, icing spurted out the top and shot across the kitchen counter, leaving tell tale splatters of rainbow coloured frosting all over the worktop. Oops. He gulped, trying his best to mop up the mess with a discarded tea towel. That hadn't been his most sensible idea, it had to be said. He gazed hopelessly around the room. The sleepy gingerbread man began to feel a little disheartened and his shoulders slumped forwards into a melancholy slope. Oh dear, oh dear. He sighed, his eyes brimming with tears so that their outlines of icing began to drip and smudge a little. I'll never find a nice spot to fall asleep in, he lamented as yet another tremendous yawn rippled through his body. Suddenly, out of the darkness, a strange noise came drifting down from upstairs, interrupting his thoughts. He rubbed his bleary eyes and glanced around the room, trying to make out where the noise was coming from. The buzz and the hum of a deep rumbling snore, as loud as a grizzly bear's roar, came tumbling down the stairs. It was coming from Betty the Badger's bedroom. The talented baker must have been fast asleep in the deepest of slumbers because she was snoring her snout off. The sleepy gingerbread man forgot to be upset for a moment and instead gazed up the stairs, alarmed at the volume of the snoring. But More than a little envious, too. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be enjoying a deep, deep sleep like whoever's making that great big snoring sound upstairs. He sighed and sat down on the tabletop, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin propped up on his wrists and his whole body trembling with tiredness. What I wouldn't give for my own cosy cottage, he whispered, his voice lilting wistfully through the air like a secret prayer. Then I'd sleep ever so soundly, just like whoever that is, all tucked up and snugly in their bed. All of a sudden, the sleepy gingerbread man spotted something across the kitchen. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide like flying saucers. Could it be. Could it actually be a real life gingerbread house? His heart began to tingle with anticipation and his gingerbread hands clasped one another joyfully. Wow. He breathed, his face lighting up. It's as if someone heard me just now. That's the most perfect little cottage. Just my size and entirely made out of gingerbread. He couldn't believe his luck as he padded across the table and leapt over onto the nearby shelf. He kept his eyes fixed on the cosy little cottage in the far corner of the kitchen, where it stood proudly on display on the countertop. It was really the most enchanting sight. Sturdy gingerbread walls bedecked with shiny boiled sweets, brilliantly coloured licorice laces, marzipan swirls and candied fruits. The brickwork was outlined with a delicate frosting and the windows gleamed with crystallised sugar sheets. It was completely breathtaking and utterly perfect. As he eventually clambered up onto the kitchen sideboard and approached the house, he felt a warm, gooey feeling inside his chest, as if a warm current of golden caramel was pouring in and filling him up with a joyful, sparkly feeling. He felt safe and cosy, and most importantly, he felt at home. He smiled, his iced mouth stretching from ear to ear in a wide grin as he shuffled his feet on the doorstep and strode into the house. Inside, the gingerbread house smelled just heavenly, a delicious blend of peppermint nutmeg and freshly melted chocolate. The sleepy gingerbread man took a deep breath in, savouring the scrumptious scent of sweetness. He wandered from room to room, taking in the furnishings, the shelves made of liquorice root, the furniture fashioned from waffles and held together with sticky toffee glaze, and the cushions stuffed with the softest candy floss. It was the most delicious home to ever exist with the promise of a good night's sleep growing increasingly close, the sleepy gingerbread man climbed up the candy cane staircase, crossed the hall, and found himself in the cosiest, most comfortable and snuggliest bedroom to ever exist. The carpet was thick and fluffy and his ginger toes sank into the plushness as he walked over to the four poster bed. Sheets of rice paper hung from the bed frame tied with strawberry laces, and a huge stack of pink and white marshmallows lay like pillows ready to cradle his sleepy head. The warm snuggly bedsheets were woven together with spun sugar and felt as soft as silk. The sleepy gingerbread man climbed into bed and a contented sigh fell from his lips as he pulled the covers up to his chin and settled down into the cinnamon dusted sheets. It was the most perfect spot and within a matter of minutes the sleepy gingerbread man was fast asleep, the gumdrop buttons along his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm and his lips resting in a soft smile. Safe, warm and cosy. Outside the crystallized sugar window, across the kitchen and beyond the frosted window panes of the bakery, the day continued to unfold in a quiet winter lullaby. The sun glinted softly on the snow, casting golden ribbons across the frozen pond. Snowflakes twirled on the breeze like icing sugar in the air, and the frosty leaves whispered icy secrets to one another as they crunched beneath passing footsteps. But inside Betty the Badger's Bakery all was still. The little badger cubs were tucked safely in their beds, dreaming of crumbly mouthfuls of sugar, dusted shortbread, and buttery bites of freshly baked gingerbread. Meanwhile, the sleepy gingerbread man was tucked inside his magical gingerbread house, dreaming of marshmallow mountains, soft rain clouds from which licorice laces poured, and lagoons of rich melted chocolate. And so wrapped up in sugar and spice and everything nice. The sleepy gingerbread man dozed happily in a blissfully uninterrupted slumber where not a single crumb of his was disturbed. Sam. Ra.