Father Christmas can't sleep: a bedtime story

It was late at the North Pole. The workshop lights were off. The reindeer were asleep in the stable. Even the snow had stopped falling, as if it was having a rest too.

But in the little wooden house, one window was still glowing.

Father Christmas was lying in bed. His eyes were wide open.

He turned onto his left side. He turned onto his right side. He fluffed his pillow. He counted the stripes on his pyjamas.

But he could not sleep.

A knock on the door

Tap, tap, tap. The bedroom door opened a little, and a small face peeped in. It was Pip the elf, in his nightcap.

"Father Christmas?" whispered Pip. "I saw your light. Can't you sleep?"

"Not a wink," sighed Father Christmas. "My head is so busy. Full of lists and letters and reindeer and ribbons."

Pip nodded wisely. "I know a game for busy heads," he said. "Shall we play it?"

"Yes, please," said Father Christmas.

The breathing game

Pip sat on the end of the bed.

"First," he whispered, "close your eyes."

Father Christmas closed his eyes.

"Now imagine you are holding a big mug of hot chocolate. Smell it. Breathe in slowly through your nose..."

Father Christmas breathed in. Slowly, slowly.

"And now blow on it, very gently, to cool it down. Breathe out through your mouth..."

Father Christmas blew. Whooo.

"Again," whispered Pip. "Smell the hot chocolate..."

In.

"And blow..."

Out.

(You can do it too. Smell the hot chocolate, and blow. Smell, and blow.)

Saying goodnight

"Now," whispered Pip, "let's say goodnight to everything, one by one."

"Goodnight, workshop," whispered Father Christmas. "Goodnight, little wooden trains."

"Goodnight, reindeer in the stable," whispered Pip.

"Goodnight, stars in the sky."

"Goodnight, snow on the roof."

"Goodnight, letters on the desk," whispered Father Christmas. "I will read you tomorrow."

His voice was getting slower. And softer.

"Goodnight, toes," whispered Pip. "Goodnight, knees. Goodnight, tummy."

Father Christmas's tummy rose and fell, rose and fell, like a little boat on a calm sea.

Sleep

"Goodnight, nose," whispered Pip. "Goodnight, beard. Goodnight, Father Christmas."

But Father Christmas did not answer.

He was fast asleep. And he was smiling.

Pip tiptoed to the window and pulled the curtains closed. He tucked the blanket around Father Christmas's shoulders. Then he blew out... no, he switched off the little lamp.

"Sleep well," he whispered.

And back in his own little bed, under his own little blanket, Pip closed his eyes too. He smelled an imaginary hot chocolate. He blew on it gently.

And soon, the whole North Pole was asleep.

Goodnight.

For grown-ups

The breathing game in this story really helps children (and adults) calm down. Breathing in through the nose and out slowly through the mouth slows the heart and relaxes the body. Try it together at bedtime, or whenever your child feels busy or worried.