Barnaby Bear snuggled deep in his bed of leaves. The moon shone through the branches, making dancing shadows on his wall. But Barnaby wasn't sleepy. He tossed and turned, fluffing his pillow made of soft moss. "I wish I had a good bedtime story," he sighed.
Suddenly, a little firefly zipped past his nose. "A story?" it buzzed. "I have an idea! Close your eyes and imagine...fluffy white clouds."
Barnaby squeezed his eyes shut. He imagined big, puffy clouds, like cotton candy. "Now what?" he whispered.
The firefly landed on his ear. "Imagine you're bouncing on those clouds! Boing! Boing!"
Barnaby giggled, imagining himself bouncing so high he could almost touch the stars. "This is fun!" he said. "But what's the story about?"
A wise old owl hooted from a nearby branch. "Every story needs a problem," she hooted. "What if you bounced too high and landed on the moon?"
Barnaby gasped. "That's a great idea! I could meet the Man in the Moon!"
The firefly buzzed excitedly. "And he could be having a tea party with the stars!"
Barnaby's imagination soared. He pictured himself joining the tea party, sipping star-shaped cookies and laughing with twinkling stars. The Man in the Moon would tell him stories about the Earth far below.
He imagined meeting friendly moon rabbits and playing hide-and-seek among the craters. He even imagined a giant slide made of moonbeams, whooshing him back down to his cozy bed.
Finally, feeling sleepy and content, Barnaby opened his eyes. The firefly and the owl were gone. The moon still shone brightly, but now it felt like a friend. He had created his own perfect bedtime story plot. He snuggled into his leaves and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of bouncing clouds, twinkling stars, and the friendly Man in the Moon.