Bedtime stories about silly things.

Hugo the hippo was very sleepy. "Time for bed," he yawned, and he climbed into his bed. Creak! went the bed. His head stuck out at the top, his feet stuck out at the bottom, and his tummy stuck out at both sides.

"Too small," said Hugo. So he tried the bath instead. He sat down very carefully. Splosh! The water splashed up the walls, over the floor and onto the cat, who was not pleased at all.

"Too splashy," said Hugo. So he tried the hammock in the garden. He lay down very gently. The hammock stretched, and stretched, and stretched, until Hugo was lying on the grass with the hammock on top of him like a blanket.

"Too stretchy," said Hugo. He sat on the grass and thought. Where do hippos sleep? Then he heard a gentle sound: lap, lap, lap. It was the river at the bottom of the garden, cool and calm in the moonlight.

Hugo waded in until only his ears, his eyes and his nose were peeking out. The water held him up, soft and wide and just the right size. "Perfect," he sighed. And soon the only sound in the garden was a happy hippo snoring little bubbles: blub, blub, blub.

When Grandpa looked after Mia, he did bedtime his own way. "Pajamas!" he announced, and he put Mia's pajama top on his own head, like a hat. "Grandpa!" giggled Mia. "That goes on me!" "Oh, so it does," said Grandpa.

"Teeth!" said Grandpa, and he squeezed toothpaste onto her hairbrush. "Grandpa! That's my hairbrush!" laughed Mia, and she found her toothbrush herself. Grandpa scratched his head. "How did that happen?"

Then Grandpa sat on the end of the bed and opened her storybook. "Once upon a time," he began, very seriously, holding the book completely upside down. Mia laughed so much she had to hold her tummy. She turned the book the right way up for him.

At last, Mia was in bed with her teeth brushed and her pajamas on. Grandpa tucked the blanket under her chin. "Good morning, Mia," he said. "Grandpa! It's goodnight!" "Goodnight," said Grandpa, with a twinkle in his eye. "I knew that all along."

He switched on the nightlight and sat down in the armchair to keep her company. Before Mia had even closed her eyes, Grandpa gave a big yawn, and then a little snore. Mia smiled. "Goodnight, Grandpa," she whispered. "You got that one right." And she fell asleep too.

It started with the baby. Just as the sun went down, the baby opened her tiny mouth and gave a tiny yawn. And yawns, as everybody knows, love to travel.

Dad saw the baby's yawn, and he yawned a big Dad yawn: haaaaaa. The dog saw Dad's yawn, and she yawned a dog yawn so wide that her tongue curled up at the end. The cat saw the dog yawn and, although she pretended not to care, she yawned a small, neat cat yawn.

The goldfish saw the cat yawn through the side of his bowl, and he opened his mouth very wide and blew one big, slow bubble. Bloop. That is how goldfish yawn.

Grandma was knitting in her chair. She saw the bubble, and she yawned a yawn so long that she dropped a stitch and didn't even mind. Mom came in to see why everyone was so quiet, and the yawn caught her too, right in the doorway.

Then the yawn traveled up the stairs, along the landing and into the bedroom, where it found the very last person in the house who hadn't yawned yet. Somebody in pajamas. Somebody about to go to sleep. Somebody... just like you. Did it find you too? Then goodnight, sleepyhead.