Owen was three years old, and he had a brand-new big-boy bed. It was made of light wood, with a blue blanket full of little yellow moons. On the pillow lived Hootie, a brown stuffed owl with a green scarf.
In the daytime, Owen loved his new bed. He bounced on it, built forts and made Hootie fly over it. But at night, the bed seemed much, much bigger.
When Mom turned off the light, Owen lay there with his eyes wide open.
Then he slid down quietly, without a sound, and stepped into the hall. He tiptoed all the way to Mom and Dad's bed and wiggled in between them. “Owen, you have such a nice bed,” Dad would say with a yawn.
“But I feel lonely in my bed,” Owen would answer, snuggling in. One night, Owen stepped into the hall like always. The house was quiet; all he could hear was the kitchen clock.
But halfway there, he stopped. He had left Hootie on the pillow!
Owen looked back at his door, open just a crack. “Hootie's all alone,” he thought. “Maybe he's a little scared.” So Owen took a deep breath and walked back to his room, step by step.
He picked up Hootie and hugged him tight. “Don't worry, Hootie. I'll take care of you,” he whispered. Owls sleep in nests, so Owen made him one with the moon blanket.
He rolled it into a circle, soft and warm, with Hootie in the middle. Then he lay down close to the nest. And he sang softly: “Off to sleep, off to sleep, the moon is here to keep.”
Hootie looked calm. And so did Owen. His eyes closed little by little, before he even noticed.
In the morning, a ray of sunshine tickled his nose. Owen opened his eyes and looked around. He was in his own bed! He ran to Mom and Dad's room, with Hootie in his arms.
“We slept all night in our nest!” he announced, beaming. Mom and Dad hugged him at the same time, and Owen giggled.
That night, Owen made the nest all by himself. Dad tucked him in and kissed his forehead, and gave Hootie a kiss too. “Should I leave the door open a little?” Dad asked.
“Okay,” Owen yawned. “Hootie and I know how to sleep here now.” And he snuggled into his nest of moons, with Hootie pressed against his cheek. Goodnight, Owen…
