The little rocket who said goodnight to the moon

Button was a rocket, but a small one. Not the kind that goes to far-off planets. The kind about as tall as a four year old, with a round window for a face, two little fins for feet, and a nose cone painted the color of a strawberry.

Button lived at the top of a grassy hill, in a shed with the door always open, so she could see the sky.

Every night, when the sky went from blue to purple to dark, Button had one job. One very important job. She had given it to herself.

She went up to say goodnight to the moon.

“Up, up, and a little bit up,” said Button, and her engine made a soft sound, like a cat purring in a sunny spot. Fffff.

She lifted off the grass. Not fast. Button was not a fast rocket. She rose the way a bubble rises, steady and gentle, with the hill getting smaller under her fins.

Below her, the houses had their lights on. Yellow windows, orange windows, one window with a blue light where somebody was watching something. Then, one by one, the windows went dark. People were going to bed.

“Up, up, and a little bit up.”

She went through a cloud. It was cool and damp and smelled like clean laundry. She came out the other side with droplets on her window, and she blinked them away.

Above the clouds, the stars were waiting. They did not say anything. Stars are quiet. But they twinkled a little brighter when Button went by, which is how stars say hello.

“Up, up, and a little bit up.”

A satellite drifted past, blinking its one small light. Blink. Blink. Button blinked her window back at it. That is polite, among things that fly at night.

And then there was the moon.

It was big and round and the color of warm milk. It was so close that Button could see the soft gray patches on its face, the ones that look like a rabbit, or a face, depending on who is looking. Tonight they looked like a face. A sleepy one.

Button slowed down. Fffff.

“Goodnight, Moon,” she said. “I came all the way up to say it.”

The moon did not answer right away. Instead, it did something Button had never seen it do before.

It yawned.

Aaahhhmm, went the moon. A long, slow, round yawn that made all the stars nearby go blurry for a second, like they had been yawned on.

“Oh,” said Button. “You’re sleepy.”

“Mmm,” said the moon, in a voice like a very big, very soft pillow. “It has been a long night. I have been shining on the whole sea, and on every rooftop, and in through every window with the curtains open. That is a lot of shining.”

“I didn’t know the moon got sleepy,” said Button.

“Everything gets sleepy,” said the moon. “Even me. Even you, little rocket.”

Button thought about that. She did feel a bit sleepy. Her engine was purring slower. Her window felt heavy, if a window can feel heavy.

Aaahhhmm, went the moon again.

“You should go down now,” said the moon, gently. “Go back to your hill. I will still be here. I will shine on your shed while you sleep. That is my job, the way saying goodnight is yours.”

“Goodnight, Moon,” said Button.

“Goodnight, Button,” said the moon.

Button turned, slow as a leaf turning in water. She did not go up anymore. She went down.

“Down, down, and a little bit down,” she said, softly.

Past the satellite, blink, blink.

Past the quiet stars.

Through the cloud that smelled like clean laundry. Fffff.

Down toward the hill, where the shed waited with its door open and the grass was silver in the moonlight.

Her fins touched the grass. Soft. Her engine went fffff, and then fff, and then nothing.

Button rolled gently into her shed. She looked up through the open door.

The moon was there. Big and round and the color of warm milk. Shining on the shed, just like it said it would.

Aaahhhmm, went the moon, far away.

Button’s window went dim. Then dimmer.

The grass was soft. The night was soft.

Down, down, and a little bit down.

Button’s small lights went out, one by one, like the windows in the houses.

The moon shone. The stars twinkled. The little rocket slept.

Aaahhhmm.

Goodnight, Button.

Goodnight, Moon.

How to read this one aloud

• “Up, up, and a little bit up” should lift slightly on each “up,” like you are climbing stairs slowly. On the way down, let “down, down, and a little bit down” sink the same way.
• Make the moon’s yawn a real yawn. A long “aaahhhmm” with your mouth open wide. Yawns are catching, and that is the idea.
• The natural pause point is right after “Even you, little rocket.” If your child is asleep, stop there.
• If your child is still awake, ask: “What do you think the moon can see from up there?” Keep your voice low, listen to the answer, then finish the story.
• The moon staying up to shine on the shed is a quiet way to say the dark is safe. If night fears are part of bedtime at your house, our guide on bedtime stories for a child afraid of the dark has more ideas. For another slow, counting-down story, try the dinosaur who breathed with the fireflies, and see bedtime stories by age for what works best at 2, 3 and 4.