← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Nicole And The Box In The Barn P.25 ✨ (Bedtime story series)
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A Short Message for Grown Ups Parents I think we've all had those times when everyone in the family is off on their own personal devices. Wouldn't it be great if you could find an activity that everyone will agree on? Something that's both active and fun at the same time? Imagine that families everywhere are discovering Next Playground an active game system where your body powers the play. It's 100% motion driven gaming. No controllers or wearables needed. Just play naturally and the games are so great and immersive. Go flying in the world of how to train your dragon, dance with Barbie, pop bubbles in Gabby's dollhouse, or master some moves with Kung Fu Panda right from your living room. Even better, Next Playground is kids safe with no ads in app purchases or mature content. Nextplayground is your feel good solution to these long summer days. Want to learn more? Visit nextplayground.com that's nexplayground.com to explore active family gaming today. A short Message for Grownups if your little one loves Bluey, here's something new that might spark hours of joyful, imaginative Bluey Chatmates. With just a press of the nose, these beloved characters come to life chatting with 10 fan favorite phrases, including some of the most iconic lines from the show. There's Bluey, Bingo and Muffin, plus some extra fun versions like Bingo with her scooter and helmet and Rita with her granny mobile glasses and grabber. Each chatmate is 6 inches tall, just the right size for little hands, and comes with movable arms and legs for easy posing and storytelling. Whether they're recreating favorite scenes or dreaming up new ones, kids will love growing their own Bluey world one giggle at a time. Bluey Chatmates is available at all major retailers. Hello friends and welcome to Sleept Stories. Nicole is happy that she was able to talk to Angus about everything that has been going on and realize that he actually knew all along. School is starting soon and Nicole is still trying to figure out how everything is going to work. Nicole and the Box in The Barn Part 25 Nicole woke up and just lay there for a minute. Not because she was tired or anything, but because for the first time in weeks, her brain wasn't immediately spinning like a washing machine on the fritz. Huh, that's weird. She rolled over and looked at her ceiling crack. Yep, still there, still shaped like a crooked lightning bolt. Yesterday she'd learned that she was part of some ancient guardian family, that her new friend was basically trained his whole life to help her, and that a woman who should be dead was wandering around giving advice, and somehow she felt fine about it all. Nicole sat up and stretched. Maybe it was because Margaret had made it sound so normal, like being a guardian was just something you did along with everything else, not instead of everything else. Or maybe it was because Angus had been so matter of fact about it, like, oh yeah, my family helps magical travelers. Didn't I mention that? She walked to her window and looked out at the garden. In the morning light it looked completely ordinary, just flowers and vegetables and that weird apple tree that grew way too fast. The door was barely visible behind all the plants, and if she didn't know better, she'd think it was just part of an old fence or something. And you know what? That was actually kind of perfect. Nicole had spent so much time worrying about balancing the magical world with the regular world, but maybe they weren't as separate as she'd thought. Maybe being a guardian just meant being someone who paid attention to both kinds of magic. The obvious kind that lets you travel through time, and the quieter kind that helps you figure out who you're supposed to be. She could hear her mom moving around downstairs, probably making coffee and getting ready to tackle more school preparation stuff. Nicole should probably go help with that. After all, she had a whole new world to explore. 7th grade at Kensington Intermediate Senior High School. Time travel was cool and all, but meeting kids her own age who lived here year round, that might be an adventure too. Nicole pulled on her favorite jeans and a clean T shirt, then padded downstairs in her socks. The house smelled like coffee and something else, that lemony cleaning spray her mom used when she was nervous or excited about something. The floorboards creaked their usual morning sound under her feet, and she could hear papers rustling in the kitchen. When she rounded the corner, Nicole discovered her mom had basically exploded the kitchen table with school supplies. And when she said exploded, she meant it. There were notebooks scattered everywhere, about 15 different kinds of pens, a backpack that looked bigger than Nicole herself, and some kind of calculator that probably required an engineering degree to operate. Morning, sweetie, her mom said, looking up from what appeared to be a 17 page orientation packet. I've been up since 66 organizing everything. Look, they have block scheduling, which is completely different from your school in Montreal, but I think you'll like it better. Oh, and they have this after school pottery club that meets at the community center. Your old school never had anything like that. Nicole poured herself some orange juice and surveyed the chaos. Back in Montreal, school supply shopping had been pretty simple. Grab some notebooks from the drugstore make sure she had enough pens that worked and call it a day. Her old school had been big and impersonal, the kind of place where you could disappear into the crowd if you wanted to. Which, honestly, Nicole usually did want to. But looking at all this stuff spread out on the table, the agenda with Kensington Intermediate printed on the COVID the gym clothes in the school colors, even a map of the building. It felt different. Smaller. More personal. Maybe they have a gardening club, her mum continued, practically vibrating with excitement as she handed Nicole a flyer. And look at this art program. They do everything painting, sculpture, even some kind of digital art thing. Nicole looked at the gardening club flyer. Grow heritage vegetables and learn about Island Farming traditions. Well, that was kind of funny. She probably knew more about island farming traditions than most of the kids in the club, even if hers came from about 80 years ago. Mom, you're more excited about this than I am, nicole said, but she was smiling. Are you sure you're not the one starting seventh grade? Her mom laughed. I just want this to be good for you. Montreal was. Well, it was hard to make real friends there, wasn't it? With all the moving around we did when you were younger and then everything being so competitive. Nicole thought about that. Her friends in Montreal had been the best, and she missed them terribly. But they'd all been so focused on getting into the best high schools, having the right clothes, knowing the right people. It had been exhausting sometimes, trying to keep up with all of that. Yeah, nicole said. It was pretty intense there. This feels, I don't know, More relaxed. Maybe island time, her mom said with a grin. Everything moves a little slower here. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. Nicole picked up the class schedule and actually felt a little flutter of excitement. Art, Science, even something called maritime studies that sounded way more interesting than the boring history classes she'd had before. Maybe starting over wasn't such a terrible thing after all. The next few days flew by with final preparations, and before she knew it, Nicole found herself walking out to the garden after lunch. Not because the compass was warm or anything was calling to her, just because she wanted to. She opened the gate and stepped inside, but instead of heading straight for the door like she usually did, she just wandered around. The flowers turned toward her like they always did, and the strawberry plants seemed to perk up when she walked past, but it all felt different somehow. Less urgent, maybe. Hey, flowers, she said, settling down on the grass near the pond. So I'm starting school tomorrow. Seventh grade. Pretty weird, right? A butterfly landed on her knee which she decided to take as a good sign. I'm kinda nervous about it, but not in a bad way. More like excited nervous. Does that make sense? She plucked a piece of grass and twirled it between her fingers. I keep wondering if the other kids will think I'm weird. I mean, I am weird, but not in ways I can actually tell them about. I miss my old friends, but I would like to make new friends too. The garden rustled softly around her, and Nicole smiled. You guys are probably the only ones I'll ever be able to tell the whole truth to. Well, you and Angus and Margaret. But they already know. She lay back on the grass and stared up at the sky through the apple tree branches. I used to think magic had to be this huge, dramatic thing. Like either you're completely normal or you're completely magical, you know? But maybe it's more like maybe magic is just paying attention to stuff other people miss. A cloud shaped like a very lopsided horse drifted overhead. Margaret said, growing up would make me a better guardian, not a worse one. I didn't really get what she meant, but I think I'm starting to. Nicole sat up and looked around the garden. Like if I can figure out how to make friends at a regular school, maybe that'll help me understand people better. And understanding people is probably pretty important if you're supposed to be some kind of guardian, right? She stood up and brushed grass off her jeans. I should probably pick some of these flowers to dry and keep in my room. Not because they're magical or anything, just because they're pretty and they remind me of you. As she gathered a small bouquet of the nicest blooms, Nicole realized something that surprised her. She wasn't thinking about the garden as her escape from the regular world anymore. She was thinking about it as part of her regular world, the part that made everything else more interesting. I'll probably visit Angus on Saturday, she told a particularly attentive sunflower. I want to hear what he thinks about me surviving my first week of seventh grade. The garden seemed to approve of this plan, if the way all the flowers swayed in the completely still air was any indication. By the time she got back to the house, her mom was already starting dinner preparations. Homemade pizza, garlic bread, and that fancy ice cream from the store in town that cost way too much. It's a celebration, she said when Nicole raised an eyebrow at the spread. My daughter is starting a new school and she's not even freaking out about it. That deserves celebrating. Nicole had to admit her mom was right about the not freaking out part. A month ago, the thought of starting seventh grade at a completely new school would have sent her into a spiral of worry. Now she was just curious. Mostly. Are you nervous? Her mom asked as they cleaned up the dishes. A little, but good nervous, I think. Nicole dried a plate and put it in the cupboard. Like when we used to travel to new places and you'd get that excited but scared feeling before exploring somewhere you'd never been. Her mom smiled. That's exactly what it's like. I'm proud of you for being so open to it all. After dinner, Nicole laid out her clothes for tomorrow. Nothing fancy, just jeans and a T shirt that didn't have any grass stains on it. Her new backpack sat by her bedroom door, stuffed with notebooks and the ridiculously complicated calculator. She got into bed early but couldn't fall asleep right away. The house was quiet except for the usual creaks in sighs, and through her window she could see a faint glow from the garden. Not the urgent bright glow that meant something magical was happening, just a soft, gentle light, like the garden was settling down for the night, too. Nicole reached into her pocket and touched the compass Margaret had given her. It was warm but not hot. Not calling her anywhere, just there, like a friend saying good night. She closed her eyes and smiled. Tomorrow she'd ride the school bus, meet kids who lived on the island their whole lives, and probably explain where Montreal was at least three times. But tonight she was just Nicole McLean, seventh grade guardian in training, and somehow that felt exactly right. The morning was pure chaos. Nicole's mom had been up since 5:30 making pancakes and triple checking that Nicole had everything in her backpack. She kept asking questions like, do you have your schedule? And what about that calculator? While Nicole was still trying to wake up properly. Mom, I'm fine, nicole said, pouring syrup on her pancakes. It's not like I'm going to Mars. I think. I know, I know. I'm just her mom paused, coffee mug halfway to her lips. I think I'm more nervous than you are. The bus ride was awkward in that special way that all bus rides with strangers are. Nicole sat about halfway back, next to a girl with curly red hair who introduced herself as Emma. You're the new girl from Montreal, right? Emma said. My mom works at the post office, so she knows everything about everyone. That's me, nicole said. Though I'm starting to think Girl from Montreal might be my official title around here. Emma laughed. Could be worse. My family moved here from Ontario when I was 10, and people still call me the Ontario girl. Sometimes you get used to it. At school, everything was smaller and more casual than Nicole expected. Her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Campbell, had Nicole introduce herself to the class, which was mortifying, but not as bad as it could have been. The kids asked normal questions. Where in Montreal did she miss the city? Had she ever been to a Canadiens game? During lunch, Nicole sat with Emma and a couple of other kids who seemed friendly enough. She found herself listening to them talk about their families, their summer jobs, the weird weather they'd been having. Normal stuff. But then she heard something that made her ears perk up. My gran always says the old McLean farm is haunted, said a boy named Tyler. Says she used to see lights in the fields at night when she was little. That's just swamp gas or something, emma said, but she looked interested. My dad says some of the really old farms have strange stories. Something about people seeing things that weren't there. Nicole kept her face neutral, but inside she was smiling. If only they knew. After lunch, she signed up for the gardening club and the art program. When the art teacher, Mr. Ross, asked what she liked to draw, Nicole said, old buildings and flowers, mostly. I like things that have stories. Well, you've come to the right place, Mr. Ross said. This whole island is full of stories. By the time she got on the bus to go home, Nicole realized something surprising. She hadn't thought about the garden or time travel or being a guardian all day. She'd just been a regular seventh grader, and it had been pretty good. Maybe Margaret was right about balance after all. Nicole burst through the front door, buzzing with energy. Mom, you will not believe what happened today. Her mom looked up from her laptop, smiling. Good day. I take it Emma? That's the girl I sat with on the bus. She invited me to go to the beach with her and some other kids this weekend, and the art teacher said I could help paint the mural in the hallway. And get this, There's a kid in my science class whose great grandfather used to work on our farm. Nicole plopped down at the kitchen table, still talking a mile a minute. His name is Marcus, and when I told him where we live, he got all excited because apparently his great grandfather used to tell stories about working here in the 1940s. Isn't that wild? Her mom poured Nicole a glass of milk and sat down across from her. That is pretty amazing. Did he tell you any of the stories? Just something about the farm having good energy and the vegetables growing better here than anywhere else. Nicole grinned. If only he knew how right his great grandfather was. After dinner, Nicole walked out to the garden like she always did, but tonight felt different. The evening light made everything glow softly. Not a magical glow, just a regular, beautiful garden glow. She didn't feel the pull toward the door, didn't need to visit another time or place. Instead, she just stood there for a moment, listening to the wind in the apple tree and thinking about her day. About Emma making her laugh during math class, about signing up to help with the harvest festival decorations, about Marcus telling her his great grandfather's stories and not having any idea how connected their families really were. The compass in her pocket was warm but quiet, like it approved of everything that had happened today. I think I'm going to like it here, nicole said to the garden, and the flowers swayed like they were nodding in agreement. She knew she'd visit Angus on Saturday. She had so much to tell him about the future world of seventh grade, but for now she was perfectly happy being exactly where and when she was. Nicole McLean, guardian and seventh grader, was walking back toward the house where her mom was probably already planning tomorrow's lunch and worrying about whether Nicole had enough pencils. Some things, Nicole thought with a smile, were magic even without actual magic. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep tight.