Pip and the Sleepy Stars

High above the rooftops lived a tiny star called Pip. Every other star twinkled softly and drifted off to sleep at dawn, but Pip just couldn't. "I'm too wiggly," said Pip. "My twinkle won't stop." Down below, in a house with a blue door, a little girl called Maya was having the same problem. She looked out of her window and saw Pip blinking fast, fast, fast. "Are you awake too?" Maya whispered. "Yes!" twinkled Pip. "My grandad taught me a trick," said Maya. "We count backwards, very slowly, and breathe in between. Ready? Ten…" Pip took a big star-breath. "Ten." "Nine… eight…" Maya's voice was soft as a blanket. Pip's twinkle slowed down. "Seven… six… five…" Maya yawned. Pip yawned too, and her light turned a cosy gold. "Four… three…" "Two…" whispered Pip. But nobody said one, because Maya was already asleep, and so was Pip — the littlest star, glowing gently over the blue door until morning. The end. Goodnight.