← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
The Yeti Who Sold Spaghetti 🍝 💜 Heartwarming Kids Bedtime Stories
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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. Welcome to our newest Koko Clubbers. We're having a birthday shout out to Arjun, whose birthday is on the 28th of September, and that's from his big sister, Ember. Oh, and his mummy and daddy, of course. Also hi to Ellie Mae from Cornwall, who recently subscribed. Thank you, thank you, thank you for subscribing. Thank you for supporting the show. It just means so much to us all. We also really enjoy reading your little notes about how much you love listening. They always give us a huge boost to know that our stories are landing well with yours, so please keep them coming. Speaking of stories, tonight's 1, OOO, it's been a long time in the making. Can you remember the first time we met the cute little yeti who loves spaghetti? It was a while ago, two whole years ago in fact, back when we were Coco sleep, if you remember that far. Now go back and check it out if you don't believe me. But tonight I'm really happy to say that Littlefoot the yeti is back. I've missed his sweet spaghetti shenanigans and I promise I we'll get started very, very soon. But just before we do, I want to make you aware of a very special seven week series that's coming up. It's going to be coming out on our feed and then on other podcasts because get this, it is a collaboration with 40 kids podcast creators. 44 0. There's a lot of people. So this series is called Big Emotions. Kids Listen Mashups about feelings and it features me, it features Kelly from Koala Shine and as I said, 40 kids podcasts. So that's a lot of people, a lot of creators that have all come together to explore big feelings through stories and it's out there for you to listen to. Possibly best for daytime listening. So tomorrow during the day, why not go back and look for Big emotions? Kids Listen Mashups about Feelings 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 grown ups. If you're looking for a fun new way to bring a little bluey magic into your children's playtime, here's something I think you'll love it's the Bluey Supermarket Playset made for kids who love imagining and playing. Just like Bluey. Just like in the show, this three level supermarket is full of imaginative fun with a real working escalator, rooftop cafe and shelves to explore. It includes exclusive figures, Supermarket Bluey and Bingo with her lollipop, plus 15 play pieces and 24 sound effects. Even including a working supermarket intercom. Little ones can decorate the store, ride the escalator and make their own Bluey inspired adventures. And the best part, it works with all their other Bluey figures too. Bluey Supermarket playset is available at all major retailers. If you love winding down with Koala Moon, you might enjoy adding another cosy Listen to your bedtime routine Nickelodeon's Goodnight Bedtime Stories It's a podcast filled with relaxing tales, calming moments and much loved characters, all designed to help little ones drift off to sleep. In the episode Boots Birthday Party Sleepover, Boots heads to Dora's house after a truly unforgettable birthday bash. As the evening winds down, Mammy helps him get ready for bed with songs, stretches and gentle affirmations. It's a lovely reminder that bedtime can be a calm, happy time to look forward to. Every episode features favourite Nickelodeon friends like Dora, Blue Blaze and the Paw Patrol, blending playful storytelling with a slow, relaxing pace, making it a great option for before bed. It's a lovely one to add to your sleepy routine for another night. You can find Nickelodeon's Goodnight Bedtime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Okay, for now though, it is bedtime and it's time to take a lovely deep breath to lie back and relax and rest as I begin the Yeti who Sold Spaghetti By Luke Prendergast One evening, Little Foot, the Yeti received some most surprising news. He found out that his favourite shop in the whole wide world, Auntie Antler's Alpine Emporium, was closing down. Auntie Antler was an elderly reindeer who'd lived on the same snowy mountain range as Little Foot for as long as he could remember. Eons ago, when he was but a young yeti, his parents would take him to Auntie Antler's Arctic Emporium, where he would browse the shelves for all kinds of delicious treats like snow rolls and yule logs and baked Alaska puddings. Then he would take a seat at one of the tables alongside his parents, and Auntie Antler would bring out a tray balanced on her antlers with three steaming bowls of her signature homemade mountain vegetable soup. Every now and then, Little Foot would ask Auntie Antler if one day she could make him spaghetti, for spaghetti was Little Foot's favourite food, but Auntie Antler would just chuckle and say, I've got no knack for making spaghetti. I'm afraid, Little Foot, you'll have to have your spaghetti elsewhere. Little Foot wouldn't mind, because even though it was true spaghetti was his favourite food, Auntie Antler's Mountain Vegetable soup was still absolutely delicious, and he licked his bowl clean every single time. In fact, Little Foot loved Auntie Antler and her Mountain veg soup so much that even all these years later, he still came by the Emporium almost every day to see her and have a bowl. And it was on one such evening that Auntie Antler told him the news. In just a few days the Emporium would be closing its doors. It was shutting down. Little Foot's mouth fell open in shock. Unfortunately, he was halfway through eating his mountain vegetable soup, so a piece of carrot popped out of his mouth and plopped onto the table. But why? He asked. Auntie Antler sighed. Do you know how long I've been doing this, Little Foot? A hundred years? He asked. Not quite, auntie Antler said. But close. The truth is, I'm getting too old to run an emporium and be stuck in the kitchen all the time. I've loved it. I've had a full house every night for as long as I can remember, and I've been featured three times, yes, three times in Mr. Tusk Tusk's list of best mountainside meals. But Little Foot, I'm ready to retire. I want to have more time for doing things that reindeer like me want to do, like skiing and watching documentaries about Lapland. The era of the Alpine Emporium has been wonderful, but even the most wonderful eras got to come to an end sometimes, though, Little Foot nodded because he understood, he still looked down sadly into his soup. Ill be sad not to have your delicious food any more, he said. Don't worry, Little Foot, said Auntie Antler. You can still swing by my house from time to time and I'll make a special bowl just for you. Little Foot gave her a smile that made him feel better. He perked up a jot. And what will happen to this place? He asked, looking around at the building's wooden walls and rafters. Is someone going to take it over? Well, I hadn't quite got that far, auntie Antler told him. But I do have one idea, though it might be a pretty crazy one. Oh, yes? Little Foot asked. What's that I've been thinking about how you always wished I would serve spaghetti in here, auntie Antler said. I remember you would so often say that there was nowhere anywhere on the mountain range that could do a good bowl of spaghetti. Well, that's true, said Little Foot. But what does that have to do with anything? I thought perhaps someone could turn the Emporium into a spaghetti place, auntie Antler said. That's a nice idea, said Little Foot. But who could do that? Why, you silly sausage, auntie Antler said. You, of course. Little Foot blinked at her. Me? He asked. Yes, you. Auntie Antler gave him a long look with her bushy reindeer eyebrows raised. Just think about it, she said. Now think about it. So he did. He looked around the Emporium at its rows of shelves, its counter and bar, its kitchen in the back, the tables and chairs, the walls covered in pictures of all kinds of snowy mountain creatures eating Auntie Antler soup, the creaky, beloved floorboards with the soft and cosy rugs. He thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. A spaghetti shop? Well, yes. Wouldn't that be a fine thing? And not just any spaghetti shop. His spaghetti shop. Yeti spaghetti. Little Foot broke into a big smile and put a furry white hand on Auntie Antler's shoulders. I'll do it, he said. As it turned out, there was much to prepare for opening a spaghetti shop in the mountains. Even though the log cabin of the Alpine Emporium was weathertight and sturdy, it still required a lick of paint and a few decorations. Little Foot, after all, wanted to put his own stamp on it. So he got out a paintbrush. A rich olive green would be best, he had decided, and set to work, and when the place was spruced up, he hung pictures of bowls of pasta on the walls and fashioned a couple of life sized yetis, wearing chef's hats, of course, out of dried spaghetti to act as welcoming statues by the door. And last but not least, he built a sign, climbed a ladder to hang the sign above the door of the log cabin that read YETI Spaghetti in bright golden lights. He would be able to spot it from way down the snow lined street. It would draw people in from far and wide. Luckily, the waiters and kitchen helpers who worked with Auntie Antler wanted to stay on, so Little Foot didn't have to find new staff. But what he did have to do was induct them all into the fine arts of making spaghetti. They were very skilled cooks who had refined and perfected a whole suite of dishes that appeared on Auntie Antler's menu. But as you well know, they had never cooked spaghetti. And at Little Foot's Yeti Spaghetti, they weren't simply going to be cooking spaghetti, they were going to be making it. So Little Foot put on his white chef's hat and showed them how to mix the eggs and the flour, and then kneaded it together until it produced a dough of just the right consistency, a balancing act as tricky and particular as a circus performer treading a thread thin high wire. Then he taught them how to take a rolling pin and roll out the dough until it was a long, thin sheet and slice it into perfect strands of spaghetti as slender as angel's hair. Then into the bubbling water, they went swimming around for just a few minutes until they were cooked perfectly through. And you see, he said to his sous chefs, presenting them with a bowl of steaming pasta, this is how you make a perfect bowl of spaghetti. And then, of course, the sauce, or rather sauces, cheese sauces and Bolognese sauces, vegetable sauces and sauces with secret recipes that only a select few would ever know. And, of course, Little Foot's special creation, of which he was particularly proud. Have you ever heard of a spaghetti dessert? Well, at Yeti Spaghetti, they would revolutionise pasta forever with the hazelnut chocolate spaghetti, lip smackingly good. Are you sure you're going to be able to get this all together in time for opening night, Little Foot? Auntie Antler asked, scrutinising the long list of dishes the yeti had written out on his chalkboard menu. Clearly, she thought it was ambitious. Little Foot crossed his fingers, and his toes too, for good measure. I hope so, he said, but you needn't have worried. Opening night went off swimmingly. Yeti Spaghetti was filled with guests who arrived from every neighbouring mountain peak. Candles flickered on tables, an arctic monkey played guitar perched on a stool, and bowl after bowl of perfectly cooked spaghetti made its way from the kitchen to plates, and every bowl was wiped clean. Well, auntie Antler said when the evening was over, I think that was a roaring success. Me too, said Little Foot. Our yeti friend was exhausted. He'd been on his feet for hours, welcoming diners, smoothing out issues, delivering dishes to tables. But he had an irrepressible smile on his face. What a night it had been. Oh. Auntie Antler exclaimed. What's that? A white envelope had just been slipped through the letterbox and was now resting on the welcome mat that lay before the door. Auntie Antler trotted over and lifted it up. Oh my, she said. I know what this is. I remember when I got my letter through the post. Little Foot looked at her with his bushy white eyebrows raised. What do you mean? He asked her. What is it? For an answer. Auntie Antler opened the letter and read it out. Dear Little Foot, it has come to my attention that you have lately opened a spaghetti shop to roaring acclaim. As a consequence, and to test the place for myself, I shall be attending yeti spaghetti tomorrow evening. If I am impressed by your offerings, you shall make it onto my list of best mountainside meals. But if I am unimpressed, then it will be a different matter entirely. I look forward to my Visit. Until tomorrow, Mr. Tusk Tusk. Little Foot's eyes widened with surprise and the slightest bit of trepidation. Mr. Tusk Tusk? He asked. As in Mr. Tusk Tusk, the most important restaurant reviewer in the whole of the Sleepy Mountains? Auntie Antler nodded. And he wants to come here? Little Foot asked. Tomorrow? Auntie Antler nodded once again. Little Foot gulped. Little Foot wasn't entirely correct. Mr. Tusk Tusk was not merely the most important restaurant reviewer in the whole of the Sleepy Mountains. He was arguably the most important restaurant reviewer in the whole of the Northern Hemisphere. He was a big walrus of a ripe and seasoned age who'd made a name for himself over the years with his list of best mountainside meals, the definitive list of which eateries you simply had to go to and which ones you simply had to avoid. No one knew if he was called Mr. Tusk Tusk because of his two massive tusks. If he'd only had one, some people said he'd have just been called Mr. Tusk. Or if he was called that, because that was the sound he made, tsk tsk, when he was unimpressed. With a dish set before him, he wore a top hat and a single monocle that made one of his eyes look supersize, and restaurateurs everywhere loved and feared him in equal measure. He could make a new restaurant sink or swim, which meant that Little Foot had to make sure everything in yeti spaghetti was absolutely perfect. He couldn't have a single spoon out of place. He had expected the day to go terribly slowly, as things often did when you were eagerly anticipating something, just like when each day leading up to your birthday or or Christmas seems to take a year to pass by. But in fact the day went rather quickly for Little Foot. He supposed that was because he was kept very busy. He scrubbed the surfaces. He dusted the lamps. He went down to the tundra to pick alpine flowers, which he then placed in vases on all of the tables. He made sure that everything in the kitchen was in order. He gave his staff a much needed pep talk. And then the evening snuck up on him. One moment Little Foot felt the sun was shining low in the sky, spilling yellow light over the snow and making every minuscule crystal glisten, and the next moment the sun had gone. The air was dark and crisp, and the sky was a black blanket studded with twinkling stars. Guests were coming in through the door, taking their seats, lending their voices to the happy hubbub of chitchat. How relieved Little Foot was to see that Yeti Spaghetti was busy that evening. There was nothing worse for a food critic, he thought, than an empty restaurant. Then there came a knock at the door, and somehow Little Foot just knew. Perhaps from the ominous booming nature of the knock, perhaps from the way that Auntie Antler glanced at him from across the room, he just knew. He opened the door and there stood the Walrus, his proud tusks freshly polished, his shirt and suit jacket finally pressed. Why, good evening, Mr. Tusk Tusk, little Foot said. Welcome to Yeti Spaghetti. It's such an honour to have you here, Mr. Tusk. Tusk eyed Little Foot through his monocle. And you are the proprietor? He asked. Little Foot blinked at him for a moment. Um, yes, sir. If by that you mean am I the yeti who runs Yeti Spaghetti, why, yes, I am. Little foot's the name, Mr. Tusk. Tusk nodded. Very good. Well, I have heard very good things about this place on the Grapevine. I hope I shall not be disappointed. Little Foot led Mr. Tusk Tusk to his table. It was the best table in the house. It stood the perfect distance from the guitar playing Arctic Monkey, in a position where the moonlight fell directly through one of the windows. It was altogether a magical spot, and Little Foot felt a small wash of satisfaction at the look on Mr. Tusk Tusk's face. He was at least impressed with the vibes. Little foot handed Mr. Tusk Tusk the menu. As you may have expected from the name, he said, we only serve spaghetti here. But let me tell ether, the things you can do with spaghetti are almost unlimited. Mr. Tusk Tusk nodded and perused the menu before handing it back to Little Foot. I shall have the Yeti Sun Settee Spaghetti. Oh, the Sun Settee Spaghetti. That's a very good choice, Mr. Tusk Tusk said. Little Foot. He gave a little bow and took the order to the kitchen. Start chopping those tomatoes in half, he told his team. I want each and every one of them looking like the sun dipping down below the horizon. And as his team got preparing the veg, Little Foot undertook the spaghetti himself. With a guest as important as Mr. Tusk Tusk, only the most expert spaghetti maker would suffice. He mixed the ingredients, rolled the dough, cut the finest slivers of pasta, and flashed them in a pan of water. Ten minutes later, Little Foot himself was carrying the plate of pasta to Mr. Tusk Tusk. The walrus inhaled the rich smells rising from the plate. Smells very good, he said. Now let's see how it tastes. Little Foot watched nervously from the corner, with Auntie Antler patting his shoulder with a hoof as Mr. Tusk Tusk slowly and then more quickly gobbled down the sun setty spaghetti. Soon enough his plate was sparkling clean, as though there had never been any food there in the first place. And how was that, sir? Little Foot asked, reappearing at Mr. Tusk Tusk's table. The Walrus just gave a small nod. Clearly he was not willing to give anything away, and told Little Foot it was time for him to take a look at the dessert menu. Of course, sir, he said, handing the walrus the dessert menu and beginning to clear the table when Mr. Tusk Tusk let out an exclamation of surprise and disgust. Hazelnut chocolatey spaghetti. He spluttered. Ah, yes, said Little Foot. I know it sounds rather peculiar. Peculiar is one way of putting it, Mr. Tusk Tusk interjected. But I assure you, little Foot went on, it is quite a wonderful surprise. Hmm. The warrior sighed. I'm not convinced by that, but I suppose I shall have to try it. Certainly, little Foot said, and he managed to keep his cool until he was safely back inside the kitchen, where he felt a little wobble go through him. Oh dear, he thought. He hoped the hazelnut chocolate spaghetti wouldn't ruin Mr. Tusk Tusk's experience. And so it was with some trepidation that Little Foot carried the plate of chocolatey spaghetti to the table, placed it in front of Mr. Tusk Tusk, and backed away. He watched as the food critic frowned, glaring down at the bowl, and lowered his face to give it a sniff. He grimaced. Then, picking up his fork, he nudged the pasta around as though reluctant to even take a bit. He wound a few strands of pasta around the fork and hazelnut chocolate sauce dripping off the pale strands. He ferried a small bite to his mouth. He frowned. He chewed. And then the most wondrous thing happened. A smile like the sun rising dawned over Mr. Tusk Tusk's face. He looked down at his plate in surprise, and without wasting another moment, he tucked into the chocolate pasta. Many thanks, Little Foot, Mr. Tusk Tusk said 15 minutes later as he pulled his jacket back on and made his way to the door. You will hear of my review soon. When he was gone, Little Foot slumped to the floor. He was exhausted. All the guests were gone, the restaurant was tidied up, and he was alone in Yeti Spaghetti with Auntie Antler. You must be starving, she said to him. Its been a long day of hard work. You need a big bowl of spaghetti yourself. But Little Foot only shook his head. For the first time in my life, he said, spaghetti is exactly what I don't want. Well? Asked Auntie Antler. What would you like? He gave her a soft look. What I really want, he said, is a bowl of your mountain veg soup. Auntie Antler gave him a warm, loving smile and trotted off into the kitchen. Not long later she returned with a bowl of her hot, delicious soup, which Little Foot sipped at gratefully. There they sat, chatting quietly as Little Foot ate his soup, when something rather unexpected happened. A white envelope letter slipped once again through the door and fell to the mat. Auntie Antler and Little Foot exchanged a wide eyed stare and she trotted over to pick it up. Should I open it? She asked. Little Foot stared at her a few moments longer, deliberating. If this was what he thought it was, did he really want to know now or should he save it for tomorrow? Yes, he said. We can't wait. Auntie Antler opened the letter and read, Dear Little Foot, I wanted to let you know straight away about my experience at your newly opened Yeti Spaghetti. What an interesting restaurant you opened. Altogether very strange but undeniably lip synchronized. Smackingly delicious. And if I may say so myself, I have never eaten a dessert quite so unexpectedly brilliant as your hazelnut chocolate spaghetti, even writing that feels odd to me. But there you have it. And so it is with much delight that I can tell you, you have made it to the top of my list of best mountainside meals. Congratulations and thank you, Mr. Tusk Tusk. Little Foot could have melted from the sweep of relief and joy that went through him. Top of the list. He couldn't believe it. Well done, Little Foot, auntie Antler was saying, wrapping her hooves around him in a big reindeer hug. But I didn't doubt you for a moment. Thank you, Auntie Antler, he said. Thank you for everything. Auntie Antler smiled, kissed him on the forehead, and left. Moonlight filtered through the restaurant, sleep weighing heavily on him. Little Foot wandered through yeti spaghetti and into the kitchen, where a huge pan of unused spaghetti sat on the side. Well, there was no one here to eat it. What would Little Foot do with all that spaghetti? And then the oddest, cosiest thought occurred to him. How comfortable and inviting that spaghetti looked. He took the pan and tipped the spaghetti onto the floor so that it lay in a big pile. And then, just like that, he lay down on it. Oh, yes, he'd been absolutely right. It turned out that not only was spaghetti the most delicious of all foods, it was also the most comfortable of all beds. Why had he never thought to sleep on spaghetti before? He nestled down into the soft, starchy strands and they seemed to move to accommodate him. Spaghetti for a mattress, spaghetti for a pillow, and spaghetti for a warm cover. What more could he hope for? Sinking down into his spaghetti bed, the memory of Mr. Tusk Tusk's review like a gentle stroke in his brain, Little Foot closed his eyes, stretched his limbs, and yawned. And it wasn't long before Little Foot, the yeti who sold spaghetti, drifted off to sleep. Sam.