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A short message for grown ups looking for a fun way to keep the Bluey fans in your home busy with imaginative screen free play? The Bluey Supermarket Playset is here, standing over 15 inches tall and packed with surprises across three levels of fun. Inspired by the episode Kids, this set comes with exclusive Bluey and Bingo figures, including Bingo holding her lollipop. There's a real working escalator, a rooftop cafe, and even an intercom with 24 different sound effects your kids will love. With over 15 play pieces, shelves to explore, carts to fill, and stickers to decorate, your little ones can recreate favorite scenes or invent new ones of their own. It also works with all your other Bluey figures for even more imaginative adventures. The Bluey Supermarket Playset is available at all major retailers. Hello friends, and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories. Fern and Crunch are having a perfect Saturday afternoon doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Isabelle is there with them and Fern is very happy when the doorbell rings. Fern gets excited when he realizes that Isabel's friend has brought a dog over, but after watching the other dog, Fern does not feel that way anymore. Fern thinks he's broken. It was Saturday afternoon and Fern was doing what he did best. Absolutely nothing. When. Well, not nothing exactly. He was being a rug. A very large, very warm, slightly snoring rug sprawled across the living room floor. Crunch sat on his back like he was her personal throne, one paw tucked under her chest, the other stretched out in front of her. She was grooming herself with the kind of focus and usually reserved for brain surgery. Every few seconds her tail would flick against Fern's ear, but he didn't seem to notice or care. Isabel was on the couch with a book about a girl who lived on the moon. Or maybe it was Mars. Fern couldn't really tell from down here, not that it mattered. What matters was that everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be together. Safe home. The afternoon sun came through the window in warm stripes across the carpet, and if Fern had to pick his favorite moment in the entire week, this would be it. Right here. Nothing exciting happening, nothing breaking, no one crying or stressed. Just this. He let out a deep, contented sigh that made Crunch pause mid lick and give him a look. What? Fern mumbled, though it came out more like a rumble from deep in his chest. You're purring again, french said, going back to cleaning her paw. Am not. Are too. Dogs don't purr. You're not exactly a regular dog, though, are you? Crunch said, and Fern couldn't tell if that was an insult or a compliment with Crunch. It was usually both. Before he could respond, the doorbell range. Fern's head shot up so fast that Crunch had to dig her claws in to keep from sliding off his back. Ow. Give a cat some warning. Crunch hissed, but Fern was already scrambling to his feet. Well, trying to. His back leg slipped on the hardwood floor, his tail knocked over the magazine basket, and by the time he actually got up, right, Isabelle was already at the door. She's here. Maya's here. Isabel squealed, dropping her book on the couch and running to the front door. And she's brought Buttons. Fern's whole body started wiggling. A new friend. He loved new friends. Crunch, now relocated to the back of the couch, was significantly less enthusiastic. Oh, great, another dog. But even she leaned forward, a little, curious despite herself. The door opened and Maya bounced inside. And in her arms was the tiniest, fluffiest, most perfect puppy Fern had ever seen. This is Buttons. Maya announced, setting the tiny Pomeranian down on the living room floor like she was presenting a crown jewel. And okay, Fern had to admit, Buttons was pretty cute. All fluffy orange fur and bright black eyes and a tail that curled up over her back like a fancy little plume. She was maybe, maybe the size of Fern's head. Probably smaller. Oh, my gosh, she's so cute. Isabel dropped to her knees, hands clasped together like she was trying not to explode from the cuteness. Isabelle's mom came in from the kitchen with a tray of juice boxes and. And crackers. Well, aren't you just precious? She said, bending down to get a better look. Buttons sat perfectly still, tail wagging like she knew everyone was staring at her and was completely fine with it. Fern took a step closer, tail wagging too, hoping maybe Buttons would want to play. But Maya scooped her back up. Want to see what she can do? Maya asked, and she didn't wait for an answer. Okay, Buttons, sit. Maya set Buttons back down and held up one finger. Buttons sat immediately, perfectly, like someone had placed her there with tweezers. Good girl. Maya pulled the tiny treat from her pocket, and Buttons took it so gently, you'd think it was made of glass. Now shake. Buttons lifted her right paw, this delicate little thing, barely bigger than a quarter, and placed it in Maya's palm. Everyone made the same ah sound at the exact same time. She knows. Both paws, Maya said proudly. Other paw, Buttons. Buttons switched paws, still perfect, still gentle. Fern's tail wagged harder. He could do that. Well, probably. Maybe not as perfectly. But watch this, Maya said, grinning. Buttons, roll over. Buttons dropped to the floor and did this graceful little rotation like she was made of water, and popped back up, sitting pretty, played it. Buttons flopped onto her side, tongue sticking out just a tiny bit, one paw in the air. She didn't move, didn't even twitch. Oh my goodness. Isabelle's mom laughed. That's adorable. And Buttons spin. The puppy stood up and twirled in a perfect circle, then did it again because apparently one spin wasn't enough to show off. She can also speak on command, maya said, but we're working on her volume control. Sometimes she gets a little too excited. Isabelle was clapping. Her mom was asking questions about training classes. Everyone was focused on this perfect tiny trick performing puppy. Fern watched all of this with his mouth hanging open slightly, drool starting to pool at the corner. He wanted to do that. He wanted to make everyone clap and smile like that from the couch. Crunch was watching too, but her tail was doing that annoyed flick thing it does when she was unimpressed. Show off, she muttered under her breath, but Fern didn't hear her. He was too busy thinking about how maybe, just maybe, he could learn to do tricks too. Can Fern do any tricks? Maya asked, looking over at the massive dog who was now standing at full attention, practically vibrating with excitement. Isabel opened her mouth to answer and Fern could see her trying to think of something well, he's really good at. But Fern was already moving forward, tail wagging so hard his whole back end was swaying. He could do this. He knew he could. Crunch sat up straighter on the couch, ears forward. She'd seen that look in Fern's eyes before. This wasn't going to end well. Okay, Fern, sit, isabelle said, sounding hopeful but also maybe a little nervous. Fern tried. He really, really tried. He knew what sit meant. He'd done it a million times. You just bent your back legs and lowered your butt to the ground. Easy. Except Fern wasn't a tiny perfect puppy. He was a massive bloodhound whose back legs didn't really bend so much as collapse. He plopped down hard. The whole floor shook like the actual floor. A picture frame on the wall tilted sideways. The lamp on the end table rattled. Maya giggled. Not in a mean way, just. It was kind of funny. Isabel's mom glanced at the ceiling like she was checking for cracks. Shake, isabel offered, holding out her hand. Okay, okay. This one he could do. He'd seen Buttons do it. Just lift your paw, put it in the person's hand. Gentle, easy. Fern lifted his massive paw, which was roughly the size of Isabel's entire hand, and brought it down, slammed it really right onto Isabel's palm. Ow. Isabel yelped, yanking her hand back and shaking it out. Her eyes got a little watery, but she tried to smile. It's okay. It's okay. Maybe the other paw. Fern, now panicking because he'd hurt her, tried the other paw, swung it around too fast, caught the edge of the coffee table. Maya's juice box went flying. It hit the carpet with a sad little splash, apple juice spreading across the beige fibers like a crime scene. Oh, no. Isabel's mom was already up, rushing to the kitchen for paper towels. Fern's tail drooped. That wasn't right either. Maybe roll over, maya suggested quietly, trying to help. Yes, roll over. Buttons head made it look so easy. Just that smooth little rotation. Fern looked at the space between the couch and the coffee table. It seemed big enough. Probably. He dropped to the floor and started to roll. His body was too long, too wide, too everything. His back leg crashed into the coffee table, sending it sliding backwards into the bookshelf. Books tumbled down like dominoes. Thump, thump, thump. A potted plant wobbled dangerously. Crunch. Had to leap off the couch to avoid being crushed. Okay, okay, maybe that's enough tricks. Isabel's mom started coming back with an armful of paper towels. But Fern wasn't giving up. Not yet. One more try. He could get one thing right. Play dead. That was just lying down. Right? He could lie down. Buttons had done this dramatic flop, so Fern tried to copy it, threw himself sideways with all his weight. He landed on a squeaky toy he didn't even know was there. Squeak. The toy shot out from under him like a rocket. Fern's legs went out. He slid, actually sliding across the hardwood floor and crashed into the TV stand. Everything went silent. The TV wobbled, wobbled more, started to tip forward. Isabel's mom lunged and caught it with both hands, her face frozen in horror. For a moment nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Then Maya said, very quietly, um, maybe we should take Buttons outside to play. That's a great idea, isabelle's mom said, still holding the tv, her voice a little too high and too cheerful. Great idea. Outside. Yes. The girls gathered up Buttons and headed for the back door, leaving Fern sitting in the middle of the disaster zone, books everywhere, juice stains spreading. Coffee table three feet from where it was supposed to be, picture frames still crooked on the wall, and Fern right in the center of it, all ears drooping, tail completely still. He'd gotten everything wrong. Everything. That evening, Fern wouldn't eat dinner. He just lay next to his food bowl, staring at the kibble like it had personally offended him. Come on, Fern, isabel said, crouching down beside him. It's your favourite, with the gravy bits you like. Nothing. He didn't even look at her. Isabel tried picking up a piece and holding it near his nose. Please. Fern turned his head away. At bedtime, things got worse. Usually Fern slept in Isabel's room, on the big dog bed at the foot of her bed, though by morning he'd somehow migrate halfway onto the actual bed, taking up most of the space. But tonight, when Isabel called him upstairs, he didn't come. She found him in the basement, curled up in the corner behind the storage boxes in the dark. Fern, what are you doing down here? She tugged gently on his collar. Come on, let's go to bed. He wouldn't budge, just lay there, eyes open but not really looking at anything. Isabelle sat with him for a while, petting his head, but eventually her mom called her upstairs. Let him have some space tonight, sweetie. Maybe he's not feeling well. After the house went quiet, Crunch padded downstairs, found Fern exactly where Isabel had left him. You're being dramatic, crunch said. Silence. It was just some tricks. Who cares? More silence. Crunch sighed and sat down a few feet away. Fern, come on, talk to me. Finally, in a voice so quiet she almost didn't hear it. I'm broken. What? I'm broken, Crunch. Fern's eyes stayed fixed on the concrete floor. Buttons is tiny, and she can do everything perfectly. I'm huge and I can't do anything right. I just break. Things hurt. People make messes. That's not maybe that's why our first family left us, fern continued, and his voice cracked a little. Maybe they knew I was too much trouble. Maybe this family will figure it out, too. Crunch opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn't know what to say to that. The next morning, Fern still wouldn't come upstairs. Isabel left for Maya's house, and her parents talked in worried voices about calling the vet. Crunch sat at the top of the basement stairs, thinking she couldn't fix this alone. She didn't have the right words, but she knew someone who might. Three houses down lived Mrs. Whiskerson, an ancient Siamese who used to be a show cat. If anyone understood the performing and expectations, it was her. Getting there meant sneaking out through Isabel's window, across the tree branch to the garage roof, then three yards over. Crunch had done it once before, just to prove she could. For Fern, she'd do it again. Mrs. Whiskerson was sunning on her porch, eyes closed. Excuse me. Crunch approached carefully, one Blue eye opened. Yes. My friend thinks he's broken because he can't do tricks like a puppy can. Mrs. Whiskerson stared at her. And why is this my problem? Crunch almost left. But then she thought about Fern in that dark basement. Because I don't know what to tell him. And you were perfect at things once, so maybe you know what to say when someone thinks they're not. Mrs. Whiskerson sighed, long and dramatic. Sit down, young cat. Let me tell you about Lord Fluffington. Who? A Persian who couldn't walk straight, couldn't hold the pose, had messy fur even after grooming. I was a champion. Technically flawless. We competed for Best in Show. She paused. He won. But you were perfect. He made everyone smile. Flopped over for belly rubs during judging, purred loud enough to hear across the hall, patted people's faces. The Judges adored him. Mrs. Whiskerson looked at Crunch directly. My owner told me, being good at tricks doesn't make you valuable. Being yourself does. Lord Fluffington was perfectly himself, and people loved him for it. She stood, stretched. Your friend isn't broken. He's trying to be something he's not. That puppy is good at tricks. Fine. What is your friend good at? Crunch thought. He's gentle with Isabelle when she's sad. Lets me sleep on him. Saved me from a cranky dog. Shares his food. Even when he's hungry, he's warm and there. Those are his tricks. Now go tell him. Crunch raced back, sneaking through the window and down to the basement. I talked to Mrs. Whiskerson. She said Fern didn't look up. She was a champion show cat. Lost to a cat who couldn't do anything right except make people happy. He won because he was being himself. That's not the same. It's exactly the same. Buttons does tricks because that's what Buttons is good at. You do, Fern. Things. Those aren't tricks. Those are just things I do. Exactly. That's the point. French sat down. Did Isabelle ask you to do tricks yesterday? Fern thought. No. I tried on my own. Right. You decided you needed to be like Buttons. Nobody asked you to be. She paused. Remember when we saved Isabelle from that cranky dog? She took us home right then. Not Buttons. Not a trick dog. Us. Fern's tail gave one small thump. Yeah. Maybe that does mean something. Now come upstairs and eat. Fern came upstairs and ate. Not enthusiastically, but he ate. Then he went to his bed and stared at nothing. That afternoon, Isabel burst into her room carrying a poster board. Fern. He looked up but didn't move. She sat next to his bed, unfolding the poster at the top in rainbow letters. Fern's special talents. Below, kid drawings. Fern as a pillow. Best pillow ever. Fern reaching high can reach things mom can't. Fern comforting Isabel makes me feel better. Fern sharing food always shares, even when hungry. Fern with a kitten. Gentle with little animals. Fern protecting Isabel saved me from a scary dog. Maya kept talking about Button's tricks today, and I kept thinking, you can do so many things Button can't. You're the best at Fern things. She wrapped her arms around his neck. I don't want you to be like Buttons. I want you to be like you. Fern's tail started wagging. So tomorrow we're having a show to prove it, ok? Fern licked her entire face. From the doorway, Crunch watched. If cats could smile, she would have been the next day. Chairs filled the backyard. Maya, her mom, and Button sat in front. Isabel's parents recorded on their phones. Welcome to Fern's special talent show. Isabel held up her poster like a championship trophy. First, best pillow. Isabel lay against Fern with a book. See? Perfect size. Super warm. And he never complains, even when I accidentally elbow him. Maya's mom smiled. That does look comfortable. Second, reaching high places. Isabel tossed a ball onto the shelf roof. Fern, can you get it? Fern stood on his back, legs, incredibly tall, and knocked it down with his paw. Whoa, Maya said. Buttons definitely can't do that. Third gentle giant, Isabel brought out a tiny, nervous kitten from Mrs. Parsons next door. Fern lay down very still. The kitten tentatively stepped over onto his paw, then climbed higher onto his back, up to his head. It even bit his ear. Not hard, but enough that it had to hurt a little. Fern didn't move, didn't flinch. Just let the kitten explore until it felt brave enough to hop down on its own. That's incredible patience, maya's mom said, genuinely impressed. Now Buttons would have sent that kitten flying. Fourth the share. Isabelle put down one bowl of treats. Crunch walked over and Fern waited. Actually waited until she ate first. Then he took his. Every single time, Isabelle said. He always does that. Everyone clapped. Even Buttons wagged her tail. Maya looked at Fern differently now. These are way cooler than sit and shake. Isabel grinned and pointed at the shed. Buttons, want to try reaching the top? Buttons looked up at the shed, then back at Maya, then sat down. Not even close. Fern's whole body wiggled. Not from trying to perform, just from being happy. Maya knelt down and scratched behind his ears. I think Buttons could learn a lot from you, Fern. That night, Fern was back in his proper spot, the big dog bed at the foot of Isabel's bed. Except tonight was special, so he was allowed on the actual bed as a celebration. Crunch was curled up on his back, her usual throne. Isabel was half asleep, one hand resting on Fern's head, her poster propped against the wall where she could see it from bed. Feel better? Crunch whispered. Yeah. Fern's tail thumped softly against the blanket. Thanks for, you know, talking to that scary show cat. Mrs. Whiskerson isn't scary, just confident. Still scary. They were quiet for a moment. The house was dark and warm and safe. Do you think I'm really not broken? Fern asked. I think you were never broken to begin with. You just forgot what you were good at. What are you good at? Being right, obviously. Fern's laugh came out as a snort, loud enough that Isabel mumbled something in her sleep. Love you guys, she whispered, not quite awake. And then she was quiet again. Fern's tail kept thumping, soft and steady and content. Tomorrow they'd just be themselves again, the big clumsy dog and the cat who barks, and that would be more than enough. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep tight.