cuentosIA
When the Toys Say Goodnight
Bedtime had come to Leo's room. The window was dark, and the floor felt cool under his socks. Leo lay down, then sat up again. His eyes were open like little doors.
He patted his blanket and whispered,
—First, my toys need sleep.
Leo lifted his teddy bear with both hands and placed it beside the pillow. He pulled a soft corner of blanket up to its chin and smoothed it flat.
—Goodnight, Teddy. Rest your paws. Sleep tight, sleep light, Leo murmured. The room grew a little quieter.
Next Leo gathered his little cars from the rug. One by one, he rolled them into their garage under the shelf. The wheels made tiny clicks on the floor.
—Goodnight, cars. No more driving tonight. Sleep tight, sleep light.
The cars stayed still, and Leo yawned.
On the chair waited Leo's picture book, open to a wide page. Leo looked at the drawings for one last slow moment. Then he closed the covers gently, like hands folding together.
—Goodnight, book. Let the pictures dream. Sleep tight, sleep light.
His eyelids dipped softly.
The lamp still made a warm circle on the wall. Leo carried his plush dinosaur closer to the nightstand and tucked it near the gentle glow. Then he touched the switch with one careful finger.
—Goodnight, dinosaur. The light is small now. Sleep tight, sleep light.
The room became soft and blue. Leo listened. No wheels rolled. No pages turned. Teddy rested, the book rested, the cars rested, and the dinosaur rested too.
Leo smiled in the hush. His breath went slow. His blanket waited like a calm little cloud beside him.
At last, Leo climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up. He was heavy with quiet, warm from toes to nose. He looked around the peaceful room and gave one tiny wave.
—Goodnight, Leo. Sleep tight, sleep light, he whispered. Soon Leo was asleep, cozy and safe.
