Feelings & Being You Stories
Naming big feelings, calming a racing body, and discovering the crown, the color, the quiet song that only they carry.
20 stories available
Bedtime Bravery
For little ones who need courage at night
When night falls and the bedroom light clicks off, everything looks different. But our hero discovers a secret weapon: the SILLY TRICK. Scary shadow on the wall? Give it polka-dot underpants! Creaky noise? That's just the house saying "excuse me!" With a little help from a loving caregiver and a LOT of giggles, our hero learns that the dark bedroom isn't scary — it's a SECRET ROOM full of gentle magic. And the sillier you make the scary things, the smaller they get.
The Quiet Song
For the gentle souls
In a world that rewards LOUD, our heroes discover a hidden garden that only appears when you're quiet. Whispers make flowers bloom. Stillness calls deer close. Silence makes the whole world glow. Quiet isn't weakness — it's a secret key.
The Feelings Rainbow
For understanding big emotions
When feelings feel like a jumbled mess, our heroes journey through a magical forest where each emotion has a name, a color, a creature, and a purpose. Every feeling is a messenger — and naming them is a superpower.
The Crown Inside
For discovering the royalty inside you
A mysterious crown appears in the meadow — glittering, golden, waiting. It's supposed to glow for a TRUE royal. Our hero puts it on and... nothing. They try everything: sitting perfectly still, waving like a robot, even attempting to kiss a frog (the frog is NOT impressed). But when they stop TRYING to be royal and just help a friend who's fallen, the crown BLAZES with light so bright it builds an entire CASTLE around them. Turns out, royalty was never about the crown — it was about the heart underneath it.
When I Grow Up (I Want to Be Me)
For kids who want to be everything
Everyone keeps asking: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Our hero doesn't KNOW. A magic door appears leading to the Future Fair — where you can try on ANY future! Astronaut! Chef! Doctor! Artist! Each one is exciting but doesn't feel quite RIGHT. When the hero tries to be ALL of them at once, the costume pile-up is so ridiculous the whole fair stops. But when everything falls off and the hero just stands there being THEMSELVES, the fair erupts — because the most interesting exhibit was them all along.
The Color Only You Can See
For discovering the shade only your heart can make
One morning, the world wakes up GRAY — every color gone. But our hero can see something nobody else can: a shimmer, a glow, a color that doesn't exist in any crayon box. When they chase it, color SPLASHES out of them everywhere they go — painting flowers, streaking across walls, pooling in puddles. Trying to catch it in a jar only makes a bigger (and funnier) mess. The truth? The color isn't something to catch. It's something they ARE. And by the end, the whole world is painted in a shade that belongs to only one person: them.
Two Homes, One Heart
For the brave hearts that love in two places
Some children have two homes. Two bedrooms. Two sets of morning sounds. And sometimes that feels like being torn in half. But inside every child is a heart-light so strong it fills ANY room, ANY house, ANY place they stand. This is the story of discovering that love doesn't divide when homes do -- it doubles. And the heart you carry between two doors is the same whole, wonderful, unstoppable heart in both.
The Keeper of Firsts
For the night before a brand-new school
The night before the first day at a brand-new school, our hero can't sleep — until a gentle glow appears in the garden. The Keeper of Firsts has arrived, with a lantern holding every first your child has ever conquered: first steps, first words, first time down the big slide. One by one, the glowing memories reveal a secret pattern — wobble, wibble, WOW — proof that your child has been brave before, every single time. And the last orb, the one holding tomorrow? Nobody can see inside a first. That's what makes it theirs to fill.
The Great Candy Council
For the pile on the kitchen table
The bag comes home heavy and goes over on the kitchen table in one glorious avalanche -- and then the grown-up says the four most terrifying words of the whole night: "you decide, it's yours." So our hero decides one at a time, very fast, without choosing at all, and ends up curled on the kitchen bench under the lamp. But the candies heard those four words too. Our hero has been named the Decider of the whole kingdom, and so far the Decider has only grabbed -- so the wrappers rustle, the table becomes a country, and the Great Candy Council summons our hero to decide about every single candy in the kingdom properly, one at a time, forever. The queue goes all the way to the horizon. The secret comes from the one at the very end of it, the one nobody ever picks.
And Then — You!
For the hardest part of the morning
The hardest ten seconds of the day happen at a door. This book does not hurry past them. It gives your child the whole day as a chain they can count on their fingers — snack, blocks, outside, story, nap, songs, shoes — and at the end of every single link, the same four words: and then, the door, and then YOU. A kiss goes in the pocket on the second page and is still there on the last one. For toddlers who need something they can actually hold onto, because "later" is not something a two-year-old can hold.
Out You Go, Big Feeling
A book you do, not a book you discuss
The tower fell. That is a real catastrophe when you are two, and this book does not pretend otherwise. What it does instead of explaining is move: stomp it out, roar it out, blow it out, squeeze it out, shake it out, push it into the wall, and then flop. Every page is one action your child does while you read it, so the whole routine gets rehearsed on a calm afternoon and is there to reach for on a loud one. Nobody is told to calm down. The feeling is not bad and it is not gone at the end — it is just spent.
Catch the Wiggles
Shake them out, catch every one, carry them home
Lights out — and the wiggles are wide awake. They turn out to be real: tiny glowing creatures living in your child's fingers, feet, knees and nose, and they cannot sleep until they get home to the Hollow at the top of the hill. So your child shakes them out, one body part at a time, while their toy catches every one in a jar: at the garden gate, on the stepping stones, in the tall grass, on a mossy log. Then the moves turn slow and heavy, the full jar is carried up the hill, and the very last wiggle — the stubborn one in the tummy — will not shake out at all. It only floats free when your child goes completely still and lets out one long breath. Every page is a move your child does in bed while you read. By the last page there are no wiggles left.
Shake the Snow Globe
A blizzard to play in, then snow that tucks you in
Your child and their toy tumble into the snow globe on the shelf — and every jump sets off a blizzard. They throw snowballs, stomp through deep drifts, sled down the little hill and roll a snowball as big as they are into their very own snow friend. Then the globe goes still, the snow begins to fall slow and soft, and your child lies down in it. One big flake lands on the toes, then the knees, then the tummy, then the eyelashes — and each part of your child goes still with it, in the book and in bed. On the last page the globe sits quiet on the shelf — and inside, their tiny snow friend has turned to face the bed, keeping watch.
The Storm Who Got Sleepy
Be the thunder. Then be the hush after.
Tonight your child IS the storm. Riding a cloud over the rooftops, their stomp makes the thunder, their flicked fingers make the lightning, their arms make the wind and their wiggling fingers make the rain — over the town, the fields, the forest and the sea. Then, over the place they love most, they spot a little bird asleep in its nest — and the storm chooses to be gentle, so it will not wake. Drizzle. Mist on one long breath. A lake so still it holds the moon. One last raindrop with one star in it. Every page is a move your child does as you read, and the storm gets sleepy right along with them.
Help the Moon Up
The moon is stuck. Only a strong little helper will do.
It is bedtime, and the moon is missing. Your child finds it behind the big hill — huge, round, and wedged tight between two rocks. It nodded off before bedtime and rolled right down the hill. So they get to work: pushing with both hands, scooping away the earth, carrying heavy glowing stones to build a ramp, pulling the vine rope hand over hand, and one last long push. Slowly the moon rises, pours its light over the hill like a blanket, and carries your child home on a single silver beam. Your child does every push and pull as you read — the heavy kind of moving that settles a body — and the last words they hear are your own, in the moon's voice.
The Night Conductor
Fast, faster, slower... and the last song is your heartbeat
The night outside is playing too fast — frogs on their banjos, crickets on their fiddles, owls on their pipes — and the owl who conducts them has fallen asleep. So her glowing baton slips into your child's hand. Your child waves it fast, then faster, then flings both arms up for the loudest moment of the night. Then they bring it down in big slow circles, and one by one the musicians put down their instruments: the fiddles sway, the drum rests, the frogs hum, the owls breathe one long note. When the whole night garden is silent, one sound is still playing. Your child puts a hand on their heart and finds it: the last song is theirs.
Smoke Rings for a Sleepy Dragon
The dragon cannot settle. Your child knows exactly how.
A young dragon is looping past the window with the hiccups — and every hiccup pops a burst of golden sparks, so it cannot settle. So your child climbs on. They swoop over the mountains, loop over the lake and flap up through the clouds, until it is time to teach the dragon what your child already knows: how to land slowly, and how to breathe. Smell the flower. Blow out slow. The first try is a puff of sparks. The next is a perfect silver smoke ring — and the hiccups are gone. Then smaller rings, then wisps, then nothing but warm breath. Your child does every swoop and every breath as you read, and the dragon falls asleep in its mossy nest — right before your child does.
Zoomies to Snoozies
Your pet knows how to get sleepy. Watch, and copy.
Pajamas on, lights low — and your pet gets the zoomies. So does your child. The zoomies are so big they race right out into a moonlit meadow: leaping the creek, chasing tails round the big tree, flopping flat together at the top of the hill. Then your child asks the one question that changes the night: how do YOU get sleepy? And your pet shows them. The big front stretch. The back-leg stretch. The slow shake. The turn-around (or the knead), the flop, the big sigh, the slow blink that means I love you. Your child copies every step in bed as you read — and at the end whispers your pet a goodnight — and gets one back, in the only language a pet has. Starring your real pet, from your photo.
The Bell and the Bellows
For learning what a deep breath actually does
When the storm takes over — hot cheeks, drum-loud heart, hands in fists — our hero shrinks down and travels INSIDE their own body to find out who is doing all this. Deep in the Old Country, where nobody speaks in words, they meet the loyal Watchman ringing his alarm bell, the Drummer following orders, the fogged-in Captain — and discover the one rope in the whole place that answers to THEM. A Magic School Bus-style voyage that shows a child exactly why a slow breath works, so they can believe it enough to use it.
What the Rabbit Knows
For putting the running back
After a wound-up day of holding it all in, our hero is buzzing — wiggly at dinner, slamming doors, and every "calm down!" makes it worse. Then, in the backyard, they watch a rabbit escape the neighbor's dog, stop, shake nose to tail... and hop away light as a dandelion puff. "Why did you shake?" — "To put the running back." The animals of the yard teach the secret every creature knows and people forgot: a big day fills your legs with running, and the running must be spent, not swallowed.
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