← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
The Book of Whatever You Want 📖✨
00:22:30
A bedtime story about a magical book in an antique shop
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A short message for Grown ups Holiday travel with little ones can be an adventure. Between airport waits and long car rides, it helps to have something calm and engaging ready to go. Netflix Kids Games has games your kids can play without Wi fi, perfect for when you're in the air or on the road. They feature characters like Paw Patrol, Peppa Pig, and Barbie. And they're educational too. Everything's fully unlocked with your Netflix membership, so there are no extra costs. You can download shows and movies for offline watching too. Visit netflixfamily.com traveltips for more ways to make holiday travel easier on everyone. That's netflixfamily.com travel tips happy travels, friends, Hello friends, and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories. Each week we share a few shout outs and birthday wishes for listeners who help support the show. It's a small way we say thank you and it always makes us smile. We love our Addie girl so much and thank God for you every day. Happy birthday sweet girl and enjoy getting your ears pierced. Love Mommy, Daddy and Ella. Happy sixth birthday to Hunter from Orlando, Florida. You're the coolest kid and we'll never stop loving you. We love mom, dad and River. Happy 7th birthday to Will Considine of Alexandria, Virginia. Mommy, Daddy and Nora love you very much. Happy Birthday Lila with love from Linda and Jamie. And happy seventh birthday to Bruce from Alexandria, Virginia. You are such a fun and beautiful boy and I am so lucky to be your mommy. Love you. Happy Birthday to you all and thank you for supporting the show. If you'd like to support our podcast and enjoy ad free episodes, unlock bonus stories and so much more, you can join sleept Premium subscribe in just two taps via the link in the show notes. Now on to our story. Theo's mom enjoys antiques and Theo sometimes goes with her to an antique place. On this day, Theo is exploring a shop when he finds an alcove where there is enough room to not worry that he might knock something down. He looks around and finds a book hidden under a hat. The book of whatever you want. Theo's dad was in the garage pulling out tools that look like they'd been underwater for a year. You want to help me fix the toilet, bud? He asked, but the way he said it all cheerful and fake made Theo pretty sure this wasn't going to go well. Mom's going to that antique place, theo said. His dad nodded, looking relieved. Yeah, okay, that's probably better. So that's how Theo ended up in the car for what felt like 300 hours watching his mom hum along to songs he didn't know, driving to what she called a treasure hunt, and what Theo called a junky stuff shop. Jacky, his bestest friend, was probably playing video games right now. Jackie's mom didn't even have rules about screen time. Jackie could play whenever she wanted, which seemed like the most perfect life ever invented. Theo was only allowed to play when he was sick, and when he was sick, all he wanted to do was sleep. How completely unfair was that? The shop was called Timeless Findings, which didn't make any sense, because weren't findings already timeless? Or, wait, maybe that meant the findings were so old that they were before time. Theo wasn't sure science made more sense than words. Don't break anything, his mom said as she pushed open the heavy door. The smell hit him first, like someone had mixed up the old book section at the library with their basement, threw in some of their garden shed, and maybe added a tiny bit of. Theo sniffed Cinnamon or dust that smelled like cinnamon. It was the kind of smell that got right inside your nose and stayed there forever. The shop was completely packed, stuff everywhere, piled on top of other stuff, which was piled on top of even more stuff, all the way up to the ceiling, maybe like maybe twice the height of his classroom. And there were things hanging from it on chains, old lamps and a bicycle wheel and what might have been a ship's boat bell. I'll be over here looking at dishes, his mom said, which was exactly the kind of things moms said in antique shops. Theo nodded. He ran his hand along a wooden shelf as he walked past. The dust came off on his fingers, thick and soft, and underneath the wood felt smooth and cool. Everything in here felt cool, actually, like the building didn't believe in heat. There were narrow paths between all the piles, basically like a maze, and Theo followed one that seemed to go toward the back, or what he thought was the back. It was hard to tell. The paths twisted around and the shop just kept going and going, maybe forever. He passed a stack of old typewriters. He pressed one of the keys and it made a satisfying chunk sound. Next to them was this weird phone thing, except it didn't look like any phone Theo had ever seen. It was heavy and black with a curly cord attached to it, and instead of buttons it had a circle with holes in it and numbers. Theo spun the circle thing with his finger and it made a whirring sound as it spun back. What was even the point of that? There were boxes of records nearby, the big black kind his uncle had in his basement his uncle called them vinyls, like that was supposed to mean something special. Theo tilted his head to read the names on the covers, but he didn't recognize any of them. Someone sneezed somewhere in the shop, probably his mom, and it echoed weirdly, like the sound bounced off a hundred different surfaces before it disappeared. The floorboards creaked under his feet, every single step. Creak, creak, creak. Like the building wanted everyone to know where everyone else was. Further back, past a pile of old suitcases and a coat rack with about 15 jackets that smelled like rain, the light changed. Got brighter somehow. Warmer. And the smell. It was different here. Less basement, more. Theo couldn't explain it. Just different. More alive, maybe. And that's when he saw the alcove. The alcove wasn't like the rest of the shop. For one thing, it had actual space. You could stand in the middle without worrying you'd knock over a tower of teacups or whatever. For another thing, it smelled like old paper and vanilla. Not fake vanilla like the candles his mom bought, but real vanilla, the kind that came in those skinny bottles his dad used for baking. And it was warm. The rest of the shop had been cold enough that Theo could see his breath. But here. Here it felt like someone had left a heater running. In the center was a round wooden table, the kind with carved legs that looked like they were supposed to be tree roots or something. On top of the table sat a pile of stuff that actually looked interesting. A brass telescope small enough to fit in your hand, and a magnifying glass with a handle wrapped in green leather. Some kind of compass that had way too many needles, like at least seven, and a few other gadgets Theo didn't have names for, but definitely wanted to touch. Covering most of it was a hat, a ridiculous hat with a wide brim and feathers sticking out at weird angles, and polka dots, bright red polka dots on purple fabric. Who would even wear that? Under the hat, almost hidden, was a book. Now, Theo liked books fine. He read them, did the reading log thing for school, even enjoyed some of them. But he liked science more, because in science you got to make things happen. Last month he'd made a solution. Turn from blue to green to this amazing orange color, and it had bubbled up like a volcano. And okay, there was also that time he'd made green slime explode all over the laundry room, including on top of his mom's work clothes and all over the floor, which he'd had to clean up for, like an hour. But still, science was where the Real action happened. This book, though something about it made him want to pick it up. He moved the hat, carefully, setting it on the edge of the table where the feathers wouldn't get crushed. The book underneath was dark brown, almost black, and when he lifted it, the leather felt soft against his hands. Warm, too, definitely warmer than everything else in the shop. Theo opened it slowly, half expecting the pages to crumble into dust or something. They didn't crumble, but they were blank. He turned the page. Blank. Another page, also blank. He flipped through faster. Every single page was just yellowish paper, worn smooth and thin, like it had been touched about a million times. The edges were darker, almost brown, and some pages had little spots on them that might have been water damage. Or just age. Centuries of age, probably. What kind of silly book is this? Theo said out loud to no one. He started to close it, but something caught his eye on the first page. Text in fancy printed letters, the kind that looked like they came from a really old printer, or maybe someone's careful handwriting. I'm a book about whatever you want. Theo blinked. That hadn't been there before. He looked around the alcove like maybe someone was pranking him, but there was no one. Just him and the warm vanilla smell and the weird collection of gadgets on the table. Okay, he said, talking to a book, which was ridiculous, but whatever. Umm, how about a book about the greatest basketball player in the world who also liked science and his name is Theo, and his mom came and took him for fried chicken and they went home and had warm pie with ice cream and he could play video games all night without anyone saying it was bedtime. For a second nothing happened. Then the page rippled like someone had dropped water on it, except there was no water. The ripple spread out from the center, and where it passed words appeared and pictures, actual illustrations in colors that looked hand painted, blues and greens and this really bright orange that reminded Theo of his favorite hoodie. The illustration showed a kid who looked exactly like him, same messy hair that stuck up weird in the back, same freckles on his nose, same sneakers with the untied laces. The illustrated Theo was holding a basketball in one hand and a beaker full of bubbling green stuff in the other, and he was grinning like he'd just won the lottery. Whoa, Theo whispered. He started reading. The story was about him, or the book version of him scoring the winning basket in a championship game and then immediately going to the science lab to discover a new element that made things float. His illustrated mom showed up with a bucket of fried chicken, the really good kind with the crispy coating, and they went home, where an entire pie was waiting, still warm, with ice cream that never melted, no matter how long you took to eat it. At the end of the story, illustrated, Theo played video games until sunrise, and no one told him to stop, not once Theo turned the page, but after that, the book was blank again. He flipped back. The story was still there, with the pictures and everything. Okay, but like Theo said to the book, can you do other stuff? The text at the top shimmered like it was thinking, then settled back into the same message. I'm a book about whatever you want. Theo spent the next few minutes testing the book with increasingly ridiculous requests. He asked for a story where he could fly and got one where he had made wings of actual feathers that shed everywhere. He asked for a story where he was eight feet tall and got one where he kept bumping his head on door frames and couldn't fit in cars anymore, which seemed like it would actually be pretty annoying. He asked for a story where his dad was good at fixing things and got one where his dad fixed the toilet perfectly and then fixed it every other thing in the house and became so obsessed with fixing stuff that he started taking things apart, things that weren't even broken, just to see how they worked. Theo laughed at that one. That seemed about right. But then he just stopped, held the book in his hands, feeling how warm the leather was, how the pages smelled like vanilla and old paper and something else he couldn't quite name. What did he actually want? Not the video game thing. I mean, yeah, it would be cool, but Jackie played video games all the time, and she was always kind of bored. Like having unlimited access to something made it less fun or something. Not the basketball thing either. Theo was okay at basketball, but he didn't really care about being the greatest player in the world. He just loved playing. He looked at the blank page for a long time. I want. He started, and then stopped. I want to understand why my mom likes these. These places so much, why she calls it treasure hunting when it's just old stuff. The page rippled. This time the story that appeared was different, quieter. It showed his mom as a kid, younger than Theo, was now going to antique shops with her grandma, Theo's great grandma, who he'd never met. In the illustrations, they were holding hands, looking at old toys and jewelry boxes and clocks that didn't work anymore. The book version of his mom was smiling bigger than Theo had ever seen her smile, and her grandma was pointing at things and telling her stories about where they came from, who might have used them, what kind of lives they lived. The last illustration showed his mom, now older, standing in an antique shop alcove with a book in her hands. Behind her, barely visible in the background, was a boy who looked like Theo. Her grandma was there, too, drawn, kind of faded and see through like a ghost, but still smiling. Theo's throat felt weird. Not tight exactly, just full. Theo? His mom's voice echoed through the shop. You back there? Yeah, he called. I'm here. He looked down at the book one more time. The pages rippled again and went blank, just yellowish paper with nothing on it at all. The text at the beginning was gone, too. Theo closed it carefully and set it back on the table, right where he'd found it. He put the ridiculous polka dot hat back on top. Find anything interesting? His mom asked when he emerged from the alcove. Theo thought about it. Yeah, he said. Actually, I did. Can you show me what you're looking at? His mom's face lit up in a way that made the whole boring drive and the cold shop and missing Jackie's video games completely worth it. Really? You want to see? She was already walking, pulling him toward a shelf of old cameras. Okay, so look at this one. It's from the 1950s. And Theo listened, and this time he actually heard her. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep tight, Sa.