Wednesday, 30 May 2018

Bedtime Story (30/5/2018)

As I write this, I'm very aware that it's almost my bedtime.  My brain is going to strange places, as is often the case when we're overtired!  So, naturally, that's the theme of this week's story...

You can also listen to this story as a podcast.

Overtired Oliver

Oliver had gone past sleepy,
But he still wasn't in bed.
And now a fuzzy feeling
Swirled around his head.

His thoughts were jumbled up,
His words all came out wrong.
He wanted to stay awake,
But knew he wouldn't last that long.

"Can I have some toast and toothpaste?"
He asked Mum, in a sleepy mutter.
"Then I promise to go and clean my teeth,
With lots of minty butter."

"I need to put my slippers on
Over my sleepy head.
And get my pyjamas on my feet,"
An overtired Oliver said.

"Will Dad sing me a story?
And then read a lullaby?
Then I can make a wish
On the brightest cloud in the sky."

Oliver wasn't making much sense,
He'd gone way past tired, now!
His poor Mum was rather confused
And a crease appeared on her brow.

"Oliver, I think you need your bed,
It's getting late, you know!
You're acting rather peculiarly,
So off to your room you should go!"

But Oliver wanted to stay up later.
He tried to force his eyes open wide.
"I'm making perfect sense, Dad!
I'm not even tired!" He cried.

Mum rolled her eyes and shook her head,
As Oliver carried on rambling.
She watched him try to swallow a yawn;
He was swaying where he was standing!

"Why don't we watch the radio?
Or play songs on the TV?"
Oliver switched on the evening news.
"Come on, Mum, dance with me!"

But Mum stood firm, for Oliver
Was all over the place!
"I'll just scrub my hair," he said.
"Then I can brush my face."

Dad came in from the kitchen.
"Oliver, you should be asleep!"
"I tried counting tired," Oliver insisted.
"But I'm really not that sheep!"

He started picking up his toys.
"I'll put these in my bed.
Then I'll snuggle up in my toy chest,"
Overtired Oliver said.

"I need to switch on my teddy,
So my bedroom's nice and bright.
Then I can climb under the covers
And cuddle my nightlight."

Oliver's eyes were getting heavy,
He gazed out at the moon.
Try as he might, deep down he knew,
He'd have to go to sleep, soon.

"I'd like a plate of warm milk,"
He yawned.  "I'll get it from the loo."
Oliver stumbled down the corridor;
Mum and Dad followed him, too.

Oliver made it to his room,
Then there came one final peep:
"Good morning," he told his parents,
Then he fell fast asleep.


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