The day was almost over. The sun slipped softly behind the hills, and in a warm little room, ten little toes were getting ready for bed.
Nine toes felt sleepy already. But one tiny toe peeked up and gave a little wiggle. It did not want to sleep just yet. It wanted to remember the whole big day.
So Mama smiled and whispered, “Then let us remember it slowly, toe by toe.”
First, one little toe remembered the morning sunshine. It had stretched toward the window, where a golden sunbeam spilled across the blanket. Warm light touched the tiny toe and made it glow.
Then two little toes remembered the soft blanket. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. They hid underneath the fuzzy folds and made a cozy little hill, just right for giggles.
Three little toes remembered the kitty. The kitty had curled close and purred like a tiny sleepy drum. The toes touched her fur very gently, soft, softer, softest.
Four little toes remembered warm milk and Mama’s hand. They curled and uncurlled while the room grew quiet, and Mama’s fingers rested nearby, calm and safe.
“See?” whispered Mama. “Every little toe had a place in the day.”
The tiny peeking toe thought about the sunshine, the blanket, the kitty, the milk, and Mama’s gentle hand. At last, it gave one last happy wiggle.
Then the bedtime blanket came up, soft and slow. One little foot tucked in. Tuck. The other little foot tucked in. Tuck. Ten little toes were warm and snug beneath the covers.
Well… almost.
One tiny toe peeked out again, just for a moment, as if it wanted to wave goodnight to the moon.
Mama kissed the blanket and whispered, “Goodnight, little peeking toe. Goodnight, ten little toes.”
The room grew still. The moon shone low. And all ten little toes slept softly until the morning sun came back to play.
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