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Hi friends. Our SleepType premium includes 12 classic children's chapter books recorded the way they were meant to be listened to, plus original character stories, extra episodes every month and no interruptions across all 17 of our shows. It's made by two parents in a small fishing village on Prince Edward Island, a second grade teacher and her husband, a second grader at heart who believe in the power of a good story at bedtime. Premium is a wonderful way to support that and to have a little more of it for your family each week. Find Sleept Premium on Apple Podcasts or at sleeptight.supercast.com. Hello friends and welcome to sleept Stories. Each week we share birthday wishes and shout outs for listeners who help support the show. Hearing your name always makes our night and judging by the messages we get, it makes yours too. Happy belated seventh Birthday to Cameron from Michigan. Mom, dad, Wes, Thomas and Lyric love you and are so proud of you. Keep being your smart, kind, big hearted self this year. Love you five ever. Because that's more than forever. Get it? Velic Natales Reagan. Mommy can't believe how cool you are becoming. You mean everything to me Mr. Baby and Rocky. You made new friends, got second in the spelling bee, cared for babies at church and improved on violin. I love our family Snuggles and can't wait to see what next year brings. Happy 9th birthday to Kai. Love Mom. To our incredibly interesting, smart, loving and curious child, Orsi ray in Griffin, Brisbane. We wish you a wonderful 7th birthday. Love Mommy and Daddy Moey and Claire. Happy 8th birthday Huddy Buddy in Nampa, Idaho. We are so proud of all the hard work you are putting into school. Can't wait to see you be a race car driver one day. Love mom, dad and Abram. Happy sixth Birthday to Waylon in Edmonds, Washington. You're growing up so fast. Almost as fast as you can run. We love seeing your tender heart branch out into the world and we can't wait to see what this year holds for you. Love Mama, Dada, Wyatt, Wesley, Hoss and mae MAU. Happy 7th birthday to Madeline from Hilliard, Ohio. You amaze us every day as you learn and grow. Keep being yourself. We are so proud of you. Love Mom, Dad, Bruce and Violet. Happy 9th birthday Chase. One more year to double digits. This is your fourth shout out and we know you love them. You're a Roblox champ, an incredible big brother and a creator of hilarious adventures. Wishing you giggles, games and epic wins. Love Mom, dad, rowan, Cookie and Major. Happy 10th birthday Wesley. Mommy and Daddy are proud to be your parents. We love your creativity and sense of wonderful. Live to be better every day. We will always be there for you. Love Mommy, Daddy, Bobby the Cat, Maggie the Dog and the outdoor cat, Idy Titty and Cutie and Happy Birthday to Bernice, Lover, Zoe Z. Mommy, Daddy and Matcha wish you the happiest birthday ever. Happy Birthday to you all and thank you. If you'd like a shout out for someone special or just want to support what we do here, you can find all the details@sleeptitestories.org and if you're not already on Sleeptight Premium, that's where the ad free listening and bonus stories live. Worth a look. Now onto tonight's story. Bobby arrives at their lunch table to find that there are not many people there to share food with. But they share their lunches anyway and discuss their weekend plans. Bobby has spent his ice cream fund on some materials and has a new project to build this weekend. He can't wait to get started. This weekend is going to be historic. Bobby and project dimorphodon. Hello Bern, Hello Eth. Hello Gertrude. Where is everyone else? Bobby asked as he sat down at the cafeteria table with his lunch. Hi Bobby. I think everyone is out sick with a virus or they just didn't want to face the mystery meat hamburgers that I saw Mr. Sheffield serving over there. Ethan replied. Well that's too bad. That means less sharing today. And I brought all kinds of baby carrots to share. My mom said I must share them all so. Yeah right Bobby, you just don't want to eat them. Gertrude said with a laugh. Anyway, I have an extra half a wrap to share. It has some kind of ranchy sauce or something. It's white anyway, but it came out of a bottle. Mum is a bit busy these days. I don't have much to share this time. Why are they so busy? I mean parents. My papa seems busy too. Anyway, I have some pudding my papa made to share. It has some cookie pieces in it and it's really yummy. My grandma sent home some spicy cabbage salad with me yesterday. It's nice and spicy. Ethan said. I'll take it. Bobby said a bit too loud as a few other tables turned to look at what was going on. I thought you didn't like spicy things. Bernice asked. I'm constantly reinventing myself. Bobby replied. What are you guys doing this weekend? I have swimming practice again so I don't get to sleep in and then I'm supposed to go with Mama for lunch or brunch. I'm not sure. Which. Which is fun, I guess. But I know I will be sleepy after practice. Then I might read all afternoon, I guess. Did you finish the book I lent you? It's pretty good. I don't have any plans though. My friend Dupe who lives next door sometimes comes over and we do stuff. Is Doope a real name? I don't know. It's what we always call him. Maybe his name is Roger or David or even Theodore. That's a good name. And you have been calling him Dupe all this time and he is too nice to say anything. Could be that's what I would do. Bobby said. You would not. You would say your name right away and probably tease Ethan for the rest of the afternoon or something. Maybe. But do you know what rhymes with doope? Don't say it. Ok, I won't. But here are my carrots. The cabbage looks super good. I just hope it doesn't cause any accidental stinkers this afternoon in art class. I would be embarrassed. It's so quiet in there. You will probably do it on purpose. You probably would. I have to go to the mall with my mom on Saturday. Am I the only one who doesn't like going to the mall to shop? I'd rather do almost anything else. Gertrude said, I think you are. Yep. Only you. Sitting up a little straighter, Bobby said, this weekend is going to be the greatest. Possibly historic. Starting tonight, I ordered some new parts for what will be the greatest invention our school and maybe the whole city has ever seen, not the whole world. I'm trying not to be too optimistic. Your parents still buy you stuff after the accidents and stuff like that? Well, I had to use my own money. The money from my ice cream budget. I eat a lot of ice cream in the summer. Just ask Bern. Ice cream is essential in summer. How will you survive? Bernice asked with a serious look on her face, even though she wasn't that serious. I don't know. Maybe I can join you on your bike rides. That way I can have some of yours. Bobby said with a laugh. You would. Bernice laughed. Saturday morning, Bobby woke super early before even his mother, who always got up early because she said she needed time to prepare. Bobby never really understood what she was preparing for, but suspected it had something to do with him. He had plans for the day, which could not be interrupted by his parents telling him things like clean your room or eat your vegetables or do your homework, even if it is too easy and you feel unchallenged. That's what happened last night when he planned to start his new super great invention. All of it. Before he could get started, he first needed some super energizing food to start his day. He wasn't allowed to use anything in the kitchen that produced heat because of other silly mistakes his parents would never forget. One involved the fire department. He wasn't even allowed to use the toaster, which ruled out frozen waffles that his mother had saved for special occasions, like when it was his father's turn to make breakfast. So he went to the cupboard where he found an old box of fruity flavored O's that had expired a few months ago. Perfect modern food never goes bad. They invented preservatives for a reason, he said to himself. That's just science. And I know science. After a couple of bowls of cereal, he felt some sufficiently energized, grabbed a couple of bananas for later. He knew the effects of the cereal wouldn't last long and went back to his room where a box of parts was waiting for him. He had tried to order rocket fuel by mail, but for some reason they wouldn't send it. He had to settle for batteries and solar power this time, which he liked, but it lacked the fun of seeing an explosion. Not a big explosion, just a small educational one. Then he heard a sound, a squeak. And then a soft knock on his door. Bobby, are you up? It was his mother. Yes, Mom. I woke up early for some reason, but I'm okay. I just thought I would read for a little while. He thought he heard his mother let out a sigh of relief. She was always concerned about his health, he guessed. Okay. I can make you breakfast after I finish a cup of coffee or two. Okay, Mom. No rush. Bobby knew that would give him at least an hour before more questions, so he opened the box a bit like it was a present, which it kind of was. A present to himself. He laid the parts out across his desk in a row. Motors. A small frame, lightweight and a bit bendy, which he decided was fine. Wires in three colors. A battery pack. A solar panel about the size of a paperback book. A tiny speaker that was, in his opinion, the most important component and had cost slightly more than he'd planned. The speaker was going to be key to its survivability. His plan was drawn on a piece of paper beside the keyboard. The pterodactyl shape was very detailed. The wingspan, the beak angle. The payload bay, underneath which he had labeled cookie compartment and then crossed out and relabeled payload bay because that sounded more serious. The section showing the actual motor connections was labeled wiring, etc. With an arrow. The various parts came with their own instructions, but he preferred to rely upon his own big brain, which somehow he knew might be a problem. He had also written in capital letters at the top, project dimorphodon. There was a piece of tape ready for the frame. He picked up the speaker first. He knew he was supposed to start with the frame and then the motors, and then work toward the speaker as a kind of reward. That was the logical order. He looked at the speaker for a moment and started with the speaker. It took about 40 minutes to get it connected and working, during which he also finished both bananas and discovered that one of the smaller screws he needed was not in the box but was in fact sitting inside his empty cereal bowl from breakfast, which he had brought upstairs and forgotten about. He fished it out, wiped it on his sleeve, and decided it was fine. Phase one, he said to himself, holding up the speaker. Complete. He pressed the test button. The screech that came out was genuinely the best sound he had ever heard in his life. It was sharp and prehistoric, and loud enough that his bedroom door, which was open a crack, swung slightly from the vibration from downstairs. His mother's voice came up immediately. Bobby, I'm reading, he called back. A pause. What was that sound? Part of the book, he said. One of those ones with sounds. It's very exciting. Another pause, longer this time. Ok, she said finally, in the voice she used when she had decided to believe him. For now. Bobby turned the speaker volume down two notches, then one more. He picked up the frame and got to work. By the time his mother called him for lunch, Project Dimorphodon had wings. They weren't perfectly symmetrical. Bobby had noticed this and decided it gave the pterodactyl character. The payload bay was attached underneath with two bolts and a piece of very strong tape, which he had read somewhere was used in actual aerospace applications, or something close to that. The solar panel sat on top, angled back like a fin. It looked, he thought, exactly like a pterodactyl. It looked, if he was being honest, a little more like a pterodactyl that had been in some kind of accident. But the important thing was the spirit of it, and the spirit was excellent. He ate lunch fast and came back upstairs. He took the carrots from his plate with him in case he needed a test payload. The first test lasted about six seconds. The motors worked, the frame lifted, and Project Dimorphodon rose to approximately the height of his desk lamp before drifting sideways into his bookshelf. Three dinosaurs fell over. The T. Rex landed on its feet, which Bobby took as a good sign. He made some adjustments. The second test was better. The third test was better than that. By late afternoon he had it flying in a more or less straight line across his room, which was not a huge distance, but it was a real distance, and he was happy with that. Then he stood at his window and looked down the street. Bernice's house was a few blocks over, possibly a bit more if you took the long way, which Project Dimorphodon was not taking. He tested the remote range in the backyard, walking backward toward the fence with the drone hovering at eye level. The signal held. He kept going. It held a bit further. He was fairly sure it would be enough, or close enough, which was basically the same thing. The problem was he couldn't see all the way to Bernice's house. He thought about this for a moment, sitting on the back step with the drone in his lap. Then he went to the garage and got his bike. A guided test flight was a completely legitimate phase of drone development. Probably required. Even version two would be autonomous. Version two would have gps, an independent navigation, and possibly a camera, though the camera would have to wait until he rebuilt his ice cream budget, which was going to take a while. He sent Bernice a message, knowing Papa Bear would probably see it first. Tomorrow. Be ready. Have cookies. The good ones. He went back inside, set Project Dimorphodon carefully on his desk, and looked at it for a moment. Tomorrow, he told it. Sunday morning Bobby was up early again. His father made frozen waffles for breakfast, which was excellent. His mother made a salad for lunch, which was less excellent. But necessary, she said, for nutrition. Bobby thought, in terms of energy. He needed energy to feed his big brain. He texted Bernice from the end of her street. I'm here. Open the front door. Not all the way. Like medium. There was a pause. Why just medium? Open? Trust me. Another pause, longer. Bobby, what did you build? Will it explode or damage Mama's bushes? She added a laugh emoji, as she often did. No explosions. Battery powered. Don't worry. He sent don't worry twice for emphasis. Bobby propped his bike against a tree, unzipped his backpack, and lifted Project Dimorphodon out carefully. He had loaded the payload bay with the carrots saved from yesterday's lunch. They were a little slimy, but he didn't think that would affect the test. He set Dimorphodon on the sidewalk, checked the battery, checked the solar panel, checked the payload bay clip. Everything. Good. He looked up at Bernice's front door, which was open about medium, he could see Bernice standing just inside, and behind her, further down the hallway, the large shape of Papa Bear, who had apparently decided to see what was happening. Bobby had not planned for Papa Bear. He decided. Papa Bear was fine. A test flight needed witnesses. He took a breath. He lifted the drone off the sidewalk. Project Dimorphodon rose, steadied, and began moving forward. Bobby walked alongside it, thumbs on the remote, watching the door. It crossed the front yard in a mostly straight line. It dipped once over the front path and Bobby corrected. Dipped again, slightly, and he corrected it again, just a little bit farther. It crossed the threshold. The screech fired. Bobby had not planned for the screech to fire at exactly that moment, but he had also not not planned for it. And honestly, the timing was pretty good. It was on the stealth setting, so it wasn't the full volume, but inside a hallway it was still enough that Bernice took a step back and and from somewhere deeper in the house, a door opened. Project Dimorphodon wobbled, overcorrected, and landed on the hallway floor with a small bump that Bobby felt was well within acceptable parameters. He walked up the front path. Hey, he said from the doorway. Bernice looked at the drone on the floor. She looked at Bobby. She looked at Papa Bear, who was standing very still at the end of the hallway with his tea, looking at Project Dimorphodon with an expression that was hard to read but was not unhappy. Bobby crouched down and unclipped the payload bay. He held up the carrots. Carrot delivery, he said. Version one. Papa Bear looked at the pterodactyl shaped drone on his hallway floor. He looked at the carrots. He took a slow sip of his tea. Would you like to come in, Bobby, he said, and tell us about your invention over cookies and milk? Yes, Bobby said. I would actually love that. Bobby sat down at the kitchen table and Papa Bear put a cookie in front of him, which Bobby thought was an excellent sign. Bernice sat across from him with her arms folded, but she was smiling. You spent your whole ice cream budget on that? I did. And you guided it here from down the street? Chaperone flight, bobby said. Version two will be autonomous. And the screech? That was intentional? Bernice looked at him for a moment. It wasn't, though. The timing was intentional. Bobby said, there's a difference. Papa Bear sat down with his tea and looked at the two of them. He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he said, so Version two gps, bobby said. Independent navigation, possibly a camera. And what will version two deliver? Bobby looked at him like this was a strange question. It doesn't deliver. It picks up. Papa Bear waited. Cookies, bobby said. From here to my house? He paused. That's always been the plan. Bernice stared at him. You built a cookie theft drone? I built a cookie retrieval system, bobby said. There's a difference. Papa Bear looked at his cookie plate, then back at Bobby. He picked up his tea. I see, he said, and Bernice laughed. Which was, Bobby thought, the best sound he'd heard all weekend. Better even than the screech, though it was close. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep tight.