My Lullaby

Bedtime stories for 4 year olds

Bedtime stories for four-year-olds can be a little longer, but still calm and gentle — just right as the day winds down. Here's one to read tonight.

My Lullaby writes a new, age-appropriate story every night, starring your child, delivered to your inbox at bedtime.

The Sleepy Little Fox

A little fox played in the woods all afternoon.

It followed a butterfly. It splashed in a little stream. It rolled down a soft, mossy hill.

When the first star appeared, the little fox yawned a great big yawn.

It trotted home to its cosy den under the old oak tree.

Mama Fox wrapped her warm tail around it like a soft blanket.

"Close your eyes, little one," she said softly. "The woods are sleeping now."

The little fox listened to the quiet — the hush of the leaves, the song of one small cricket.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

And the little fox drifted off to sleep, warm and safe, until morning.

More stories to read tonight

The Otter and the Quiet River

When the sun went down, the river turned the colour of milk and silver.

A little otter floated on her back, right in the middle of it. She had swum all day — under the bridge, past the reeds, all the way to the big grey stone and back again.

Now the water carried her slowly, and she did not paddle at all.

Above her the sky was going dark blue. A bird crossed it once and was gone.

"Time to come in," called her mother from the bank.

The little otter swam to the holt, where the moss was thick and dry. She shook the water from her fur. She yawned an enormous yawn.

Then she curled up beside her mother and listened to the river going on and on without her.

And that was the last thing she heard.

The Squirrel Who Counted Stars

A young squirrel could not sleep, so he climbed to the very top of the pine tree to count the stars.

"One," he said. "Two. Three."

By seven he was going slower. By twelve he had lost his place and had to start again.

The branch swayed gently under him. The pine needles smelled warm, the way they do at the end of a long day.

"Nineteen," said the squirrel. "Twenty. Twenty…"

He forgot the number.

Below him the wood was dark and safe. His nest was full of moss, and his brothers were already asleep in it.

So the squirrel climbed down, one paw at a time, and squeezed in beside them.

He meant to keep counting. He got as far as one.

Want a new story every night?

Sign up to get a fresh, personalised bedtime story for your child every evening, delivered to your inbox.

Start free trial

More bedtime stories