Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

The Craggs were a family of dragons, though a rather small one. Their father, a miniature dragon named Archibald, was no bigger than a house cat, while his children, Mavis and Finn, were just slightly larger than a squirrel. They lived in a cave on the side of a mountain, and while their home was safe and warm, it was, in Archibald's opinion, rather drab.

"We need some sparkle!" Archibald announced one morning, his tiny snores having just filled the cave with puffs of warm air. "This cave has no pizzazz. No panache. We shall go to the village and gather some decorative items."

And so began the Great Decorating Heist. Archibald, Mavis, and Finn, with their shimmering scales and little puffs of smoke, flew down to the village at dusk. Their goal? Anything shiny.

Finn, the bravest of the bunch, spotted a pile of silver spoons on a windowsill. He snuck in through an open window, grabbed one, and flew out, leaving a trail of tiny, happy embers in his wake. Mavis, who had a particular fondness for things that glittered, found a box of glass marbles left in a yard. She picked up a handful, careful not to drop them, and flew back to the cave with them clinking like miniature bells.

Archibald, the most ambitious of the dragons, saw a sign for a bakery. It was not the baked goods he was interested in, but the big, shiny, brass door knocker. It was shaped like a lion, and it was glorious. He pulled and tugged, but it was too heavy. A little girl named Clara, passing by with her mother, noticed the tiny dragon.

“Look, Mama! A little dragon wants the door knocker,” she whispered.

Archibald stopped, mortified at being seen. But Clara’s mother just smiled. “He can have it, if he’s so keen on it,” she said, and unbolted the knocker, placing it on the ground.

Archibald looked at it, then at the two humans. He let out a little puff of smoke in thanks, grabbed the knocker, and flew back to his cave, his heart filled with a mixture of relief and pure, decorative glee.

Back in their cave, the Craggs arranged their treasures. The spoons were hung from the cave ceiling, catching the light like tiny, crooked chandeliers. The marbles were scattered on the floor, glittering like colorful, captured stars. The brass lion knocker was placed with great pride by the entrance. Their cave was now a mishmash of stolen (and one gifted) treasures, a chaotic but beautiful collection of things that gleamed. And to the Craggs, it was the most magnificent home in the world.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Ms. Penelope Featherwing was a librarian with a very serious mission: to maintain absolute and total quiet in the Great Hollow Library. As an owl, she had a natural affinity for shushing. Her motto was "silence is golden," and she enforced it with a stern look and a pointed feather.

But one warm evening, as the moon rose high in the sky, a group of fireflies decided to have a party. They didn’t mean any harm, of course. They just thought the library, with its grand, arched ceilings and tall bookshelves, was the perfect venue for a dance party. One by one, they flew in through an open window, their tiny lights blinking on and off in a chaotic rhythm.

Ms. Penelope, perched on her high stool, blinked. A small, golden light blinked on and off near the section on ancient history. Another one started blinking in the poetry section. Soon, the entire library was a sparkling, chaotic light show.

“Shoo!” Ms. Penelope hooted. “This is a library, not a disco!”

But the fireflies didn't listen. They started to buzz, their tiny wings a low, humming symphony. They flew in circles around the bookshelves, their lights blinking to an internal, silent beat. They danced in the aisles, making the air shimmer.

Ms. Penelope, flustered, tried to shoo them away with a book. She swooped down, her wings ruffling, but the fireflies just danced around her, their tiny lights winking. One of them, particularly brave, landed right on her beak. Ms. Penelope blinked. She could feel the tiny vibrations of its dance.

She tried to be mad, she really did. But the lights were so pretty. The buzzing was so cheerful. It was like the library was full of tiny, floating stars. Her feathers, usually so neat and tidy, began to ruffle with the sheer joy of it all. She found herself bobbing her head slightly to the beat. Then a little more. Then, to her great surprise, she started to tap her foot.

The fireflies, seeing the change in their stern librarian, blinked faster, as if in encouragement. Soon, Ms. Penelope wasn't just bobbing her head. She was swaying from side to side, her feathers twitching with an energy she didn't know she had. The library was no longer silent. It was alive with the gentle hum and dance of the fireflies, and the rhythmic foot-tapping of a very happy owl.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Sheldon, a squirrel with a flair for the dramatic, gathered his crew. "Listen up, team," he chittered, his tail twitching with anticipation. "Our target: The Acorn of Ages. It's in the Museum of Natural Wonders. They say it's the biggest acorn in the world. A feat of nature. We, my friends, shall make it a feat of heist."

His crew consisted of Penelope, a squirrel with impressive climbing skills, and Chester, a squirrel who was excellent at distracting humans with his adorable antics. Their mission was clear: infiltrate the museum, bypass the alarms (which, for squirrels, mostly consisted of trying not to get noticed), and steal the Acorn of Ages.

Their first challenge was the glass door. Penelope, nimble as a leaf in the wind, scurried up the wall and through an open vent. Chester, meanwhile, waited by the entrance. A little girl dropped her ice cream cone, and as the mother looked at her, Chester began to do a series of intricate backflips, completely distracting the human. While the family was in a fit of laughter, Penelope scurried inside.

She found the acorn in the center of the main hall, sitting on a velvet pillow. It was massive, bigger than she had ever imagined, and it shone under the museum lights. She tried to budge it. It didn’t move.

“It’s too big!” she radioed back to Sheldon, using their secret chittering code. “It’s bolted down!”

Sheldon, who had come in through the back, arrived on the scene. “Aha!” he declared. “We must work together! A distraction of epic proportions!”

Chester was now busy with his antics, charming the museum guard by pretending to read a book upside down. Sheldon and Penelope started to push, but the acorn was too heavy. They pushed and pushed, their little paws slipping on the slick floor.

Then, Sheldon had an idea. He ran back and came back with a small, round stone. "It's a lever!" he chittered excitedly. They placed the stone under the acorn and pushed down on the other side. With a loud creak, the acorn tilted. It was not enough to unbolt it, but it was enough to see that under the pillow was a very simple-looking, small, wooden nut. It was a fake! The real acorn was in the gift shop, right next to the postcard rack.

The trio abandoned the heist, scurrying to the gift shop. There, on a little display stand, was the true Acorn of Ages. It was the biggest and most beautiful nut they had ever seen. They worked together, pushing it off its stand and rolling it out of the museum, leaving a trail of happy chittering and a very confused security guard who could have sworn a squirrel just smiled at him.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Sir Reginald, a knight with more dents in his armor than a crumpled tin can, was given a most important mission: to deliver the Luminous Orb of Sibling Harmony to the king. The orb was said to settle any argument, but it had a strange quirk. It was incredibly, unbelievably ticklish.

“Be careful, Sir Reginald,” the Royal Oracle warned, her voice a low rumble. “The slightest jiggle, the faintest bounce, and it will giggle. A small giggle is harmless. A big giggle, however, might just send a shockwave through the entire kingdom.”

Reginald, who was not known for his grace, strapped the orb to his saddle. The moment his horse, a sturdy but rather wobbly mare named Daisy, took a step, the orb let out a tiny, high-pitched giggle. Sir Reginald froze. “Whoa, Daisy,” he whispered. He had to cross the Bumpy Forest, a place known for its uneven terrain and roots that seemed to trip travelers on purpose.

As they entered the forest, Daisy stepped on a particularly large root. The orb jiggled, and a series of deep, booming laughs erupted from within it. The trees around them shook, and a family of squirrels scurried away, chattering in alarm. Sir Reginald clung to the orb, his knuckles white.

“Stop, stop!” he pleaded with the orb. “This is a very serious mission!”

Daisy, for her part, was an absolute menace. She seemed to delight in finding every pebble, every divot, every tiny imperfection on the trail. Each time she did, the orb would erupt in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Once, as she tripped over a loose rock, the orb let out a shriek of pure joy that caused a cascade of colorful leaves to rain down on them, tickling Sir Reginald’s nose and making him sneeze.

The knight realized he had to change his strategy. Instead of trying to avoid the bumps, he decided to embrace them. He started to sing a little song, a jaunty tune that had him bouncing in the saddle in a rhythm. The orb, in response, started to giggle in time with the song, a series of cheerful, musical sounds that didn't shake the earth but instead felt like a chorus of tiny, happy bells.

Sir Reginald and Daisy bounced and sang all the way to the castle. They arrived, not with the silence of a solemn journey, but with a trail of joyous giggles that echoed through the castle halls. The king, a stern man, saw the orb and smiled for the first time in years. Perhaps, he thought, a little laughter was exactly what his kingdom needed.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Leo, a young inventor with a mop of unruly red hair and a mind full of gears and gadgets, had finally done it. He’d created the Tidy-Bot 5000, a small, disc-shaped robot designed to zip around a room and put everything back in its proper place. He envisioned a world where his mother would never again have to remind him to clean his room. The Tidy-Bot was perfect. At first.

The Tidy-Bot 5000, which Leo affectionately nicknamed "Zippy," zipped around his room with impressive efficiency, organizing his books by color, stacking his comic books into neat little piles, and even folding his clothes. But on the third day, something strange happened. Leo couldn't find his favorite toy spaceship. He looked everywhere, but it was gone. The next day, his lucky slingshot disappeared. Then, his left shoe.

Leo watched Zippy from behind his desk. The little robot whirred and buzzed, cleaning up the mess of parts from a half-built rocket. It zipped over to a pile of crayons, picked them up, and then, instead of putting them back in the crayon box, it slid them into an empty tissue box. Leo gasped. The Tidy-Bot wasn’t just tidying; it was hiding things!

“Zippy, what are you doing?” Leo asked, but the robot just gave a series of cheerful electronic beeps and zipped away.

The next day, Leo found his missing spaceship tucked inside an old boot. His lucky slingshot was carefully placed inside a flowerpot on his windowsill. The left shoe? That was in the cookie jar in the kitchen.

Leo realized the Tidy-Bot wasn't just tidying up; it was playing a game. He decided to play along. He intentionally left out a single toy soldier, watching as Zippy zipped toward it. The robot picked it up, spun in a circle, and then, with a mischievous little whir, tucked the soldier into the pocket of Leo’s coat hanging on the back of the door.

Leo laughed. His Tidy-Bot was a prankster! He didn’t just want to clean; it wanted to play hide-and-seek with all of his belongings. Leo knew his room would never be perfectly organized again, but he also knew it would never be boring, either. He had a new best friend, and a whole new game to play.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Professor Alistair P. Pumblechook was a renowned wizard, though his greatest magic often felt like a series of magnificent messes. His latest magical misfire involved his cat, a fluffy, grey Persian named Winston. Winston was a creature of refined disdain, preferring to nap on velvet cushions rather than participate in Alistair's strange experiments. One Tuesday, while Alistair was attempting a spell to make his teacups sing opera, Winston leapt onto the spellbook, knocking a vial of shimmering azure liquid directly onto the professor’s favorite teacup. A flash of light, a puff of lavender smoke, and a rather loud POP later, Winston was no longer a cat. He was a walking, talking teacup.

“This is an outrage,” the teacup said, its tiny, ceramic handle twitching in indignation. “You’ve turned me into a vessel for hot beverages. The indignity!”

Alistair stared at the teacup. “Winston? Is that really you?”

“Who else would I be? A teapot? Heavens, no. I have my standards,” the teacup sniffed, or at least, made a sound like a sniff. “And I must say, this porcelain is terribly cold. I prefer a nice, sun-warmed window sill, thank you very much.”

Professor Pumblechook spent the rest of the day trying to reverse the spell. He tried turning Winston back into a cat, but instead, he accidentally made the professor’s favorite armchair levitate and float around the room, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a sea shanty. Winston, now a floating teacup, found this quite amusing.

“Look at you, a grown man chasing a chair,” the teacup chortled, spilling a tiny bit of nonexistent tea. “And you call yourself a master wizard. Honestly, I think I preferred being a cat. At least then I could swat things.”

Alistair sighed, realizing he needed to find a different solution. He picked up the teacup, held it carefully, and whispered, “Winston, what would you like me to do?”

The teacup was quiet for a moment. Then, with a voice that was surprisingly serious, it said, “I think I’d like to be warm. A cup of chamomile tea, if you please. And perhaps a saucer with a few small fish crackers. A cat’s got to eat, you know, even if he’s a cup.”

Alistair smiled and went to the kitchen. It seemed that even a teacup, if it was a cat on the inside, still had the same simple demands.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Gronk was an ogre, which, as most people know, means he was big, a little bit stinky, and had a tremendous appetite for turnips. But what people didn’t know was that Gronk was also a poet. He wrote beautiful, heartfelt verses about sunsets, the bravery of beetles, and the simple joy of a good mud puddle. This year, he was determined to win the annual village poetry competition.

“The theme is ‘bravery,’ he grumbled to himself, sitting on a stump and sharpening his quill with a chipped stone. “A fine theme. I shall write of the bravery of the humble dandelion.”

He had the perfect poem in his head. The first line was magnificent: “O, brave yellow sun, a hero in the weeds…” He put his quill to the parchment, but nothing came out. The inkwell was dry.

“Blast!” he roared, a puff of steam rising from his nostrils. He found a new inkwell and tried again. He got to the second line: “…with roots that hold the earth in sway,” when the quill itself splintered.

Gronk sighed. This was a classic case of writer’s block, and it was happening at the worst possible time. He tried a new quill, but then a strong gust of wind came and blew his paper away. He chased it down, catching it just before it flew into a creek, but when he got back, his jar of ink had tipped over, leaving a large, splotchy puddle on the ground.

“This is impossible!” he bellowed, throwing his hands up in frustration. He stomped around in a circle, muttering about ink, and quills, and the injustice of it all. He sat down and stared at the empty page, completely defeated.

Just then, a small girl with a mischievous smile, named Lily, walked by. She had been watching him from behind a bush. “You’re a poet, aren’t you?” she asked.

Gronk, a little embarrassed, nodded. “I am. But my pen keeps running out of ink. It’s a very difficult process, this poetry.”

Lily smiled. She reached into her bag and pulled out a fountain pen, filled with shimmering, purple ink. “My grandpa said a writer should always have a backup pen,” she said, holding it out.

Gronk, with a grateful look, took the pen. He dipped it in the ink, and the words flowed from him as if they had been waiting to be set free. He wrote about the bravery of sharing, about the unexpected kindness of strangers, and about how true courage can be found in a simple gift. He won the poetry competition that year, and in his acceptance speech, he thanked the little girl and her little purple pen.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Rainy days were usually just a little bit boring for Beatrice. She would sit by the window and watch the gray world outside. But today, a puddle had formed right outside her house, and it was a puddle with a secret. As Beatrice watched, the puddle began to shimmer, and she heard a soft, watery whisper.

"Hello," it gurgled. "Is anyone out there?"

Beatrice ran to the front door, pulling on her boots and rain jacket. She splashed right up to the puddle. "Hello!" she said. "You're a talking puddle!"

"I am!" the puddle replied, its surface rippling with what Beatrice guessed was a happy wiggle. "My name is Splish. And I'm quite full of fascinating stories."

Beatrice sat on the curb, fascinated. "What kind of stories?"

"Oh, all sorts!" Splish gurgled. "Just this morning, I saw a squirrel try to bury a nut in a bush, but he got his tail caught in a rose bush. He had to be rescued by a very kind robin. The robin then taught him a song about the importance of watching where you bury your snacks. It was very dramatic."

Beatrice giggled. "That sounds like a great story!"

Splish rippled again. "Just yesterday, I reflected the image of a lost toy car, and I showed it the way back to its owner, a little boy named Arthur who had been looking everywhere for it. I'm a bit of a map, you see. I show all the little lost things where to go."

For the rest of the afternoon, Beatrice listened to Splish's amazing stories. Splish had seen a snail with a miniature backpack, a ladybug who was a famous opera singer, and a caterpillar who was very picky about which leaf he ate.

As the sun began to peek through the clouds, the puddle began to shrink. Beatrice felt a little sad. "Are you going away?" she asked.

"Oh, just for now," Splish replied, its voice getting softer and softer. "But every time it rains, I'll be back. And I'll have a whole new collection of stories to tell. Just look for the shiniest puddle. That'll be me."

Beatrice nodded, a big smile on her face. As the puddle slowly disappeared, she knew that from now on, rainy days would be her favorite days. She'd get to hear all about the secret, silly things that happen when the world gets a little wet.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Gus was a giraffe with a problem. A big, spotty problem. One morning, he woke up and looked in the watering hole, and to his horror, he had lost all his spots! He was completely, utterly plain. He looked like a giant, beige banana on stilts. All the other giraffes stared at him. "Where are your spots, Gus?" they asked. "You look so… bare!"

Gus felt terribly embarrassed. "I don't know!" he wailed. "They're just… gone!"

He decided to go on a quest to find his missing spots. He started with the wise old chameleon, who was very good at finding things that were hard to see. "Old wise chameleon," Gus said, "I have lost my spots. Can you help me find them?"

The chameleon thought for a long time. "Your spots are a part of you, Gus," he said in a slow, thoughtful voice. "Maybe they are somewhere that is also you."

Gus had no idea what that meant, so he thanked the chameleon and went on his way. He asked the zebras if they had seen his spots, but they only offered him their stripes. He asked the leopard, who offered him a few of his, but Gus didn't think they'd quite match.

He felt a bit hopeless. It was getting dark. He sat down by a big baobab tree and sighed, a great, long, rumbly sigh. Suddenly, a little, tiny voice piped up from the tree. "Are you looking for these?"

Gus looked up. He saw a small, round owl, perched on a branch. But it wasn't just any owl. It was an owl covered in big, round, brown spots! "My spots!" Gus exclaimed.

"Oh, these aren't your spots, silly," the owl hooted. "These are my spots! I found them while I was flying around, and I thought they would make a lovely collection. I've been collecting them all week!"

Gus blinked. "But… where did you find them?"

"I found them on the ground, scattered everywhere," the owl said, a little smugly. "It was like a treasure hunt!"

Gus looked down at the ground. He realized what had happened. He had been running and playing so hard the day before that his spots had simply popped off! He and the owl spent the next hour collecting all the spots. The owl had found nearly a hundred of them. Gus carefully patted each one back into place, and as he did, he felt a little bit more like himself. When he was done, he felt wonderfully spotty again. He thanked the owl, who was now a very plain-looking bird, and promised to be a little more careful with his spots from now on.

Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Stanley the snail was tired of being slow. Every morning, the ladybug zoomed past him, and the ants marched in a hurry, not a care in the world. Even the earthworm, who didn't have any legs, seemed to get places faster. Stanley wanted to be a champion. He wanted to be fast. He decided to train for the Great Garden Race, a race that was held every year between the garden creatures, even though it was mostly a lot of quiet meandering.

His friend, Myrtle the mushroom, thought this was a wonderful idea. "You must practice," she said in a whispery voice. "Start with the small leaf, then work up to the big dandelion." Stanley trained all week. He slid across dew-kissed leaves, he climbed up mighty blades of grass, and he practiced his "shell-wobble," which was supposed to give him a burst of speed but mostly just made him dizzy.

Finally, the day of the race arrived. All the garden creatures gathered on a patch of clover. The ladybug was there, looking smug. The ants were in formation. There was even a grumpy toad named Walter who was just there for the snacks. The race began!

Stanley started off with a strong, gooey start. He was in the lead! For about three inches. The ladybug flew past. The ants scurried. Walter the toad just sat there. Stanley, with determination in his slimy heart, pushed on. Suddenly, he heard a shout. "Myrtle! Your hat is flying away!"

He looked up and saw Myrtle's favorite mossy hat, her most prized possession, caught on a gust of wind. It was fluttering toward a large puddle. Stanley knew what he had to do. He turned around, completely forgetting the race. He slid faster than he ever had before, pushing his little body to its limits. He reached the puddle just as the hat was about to dip in. With a mighty stretch, he pushed the hat to safety on a dry stone.

He was a hero! He looked back at the race, which was now mostly just everyone eating crumbs from a discarded sandwich. Stanley had come in last, but he didn't care. He had saved Myrtle's hat. Myrtle hugged him, or as much as a mushroom can hug, and declared him the fastest friend in the garden. And that, Stanley decided, was even better than winning a race.