Newborns don't follow the plot — they soak up your voice, your warmth and a calm, steady rhythm. A very short, soft story is the perfect wind-down for the littlest ears.
My Lullaby sends a new, gentle story every night, in the language you speak at home.
The day is done.
The lights are low. The room is warm.
Outside, one little star peeks through the window.
Shhh. All is quiet now.
Mama is here. Papa is here. You are safe and warm.
Breathe in, soft and slow. Breathe out, soft and slow.
The little star blinks, gentle and kind.
"Goodnight," it whispers. "Goodnight, little one."
Sleep now. We are right here.
A soft grey cloud drifted over the sleeping town.
It moved slowly. It had nowhere it needed to be.
It passed over the rooftops. It passed over the river. It passed over one small window with a light still on.
Inside that window, someone very new was being rocked, slowly, back and forth. Back and forth.
The cloud went on its way. The moon came out behind it, round and quiet and patient.
Everything was still.
Sleep now, little one. The cloud is drifting. The moon is watching. The whole night is soft and grey and warm, and it is going nowhere at all.
Sleep now.
Far away, the sea moves all night long.
One wave rises. One wave falls. Another comes along behind it, and another, and another after that.
In, and out. In, and out.
The sea is never in a hurry. It has been doing this for a very long time, and it will do it again tomorrow, and the day after that.
Nothing has to be finished tonight.
Sleep, little one, the way the sea sleeps — moving softly, going nowhere, held by something much bigger than itself.
In, and out.
Hush now. In, and out.
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