Nana Jo tucked him into his bed. “Close your eyes. Imagine the Nappi Noodle starting at the top of your head. Let it slide down.”
He was asleep.
“…the Nappi Noodle begins to dance. A slow, sleepy dance. First, it wiggles down your shoulders. Then it tickles your tummy (just a tiny, cozy tickle). Then it wraps around your legs like a warm, noodly hug. And when it reaches your toes? Poof. You’re fast asleep.” nappi noodle
Leo’s eyes grew wide. “Can I try?”
Once upon a time in the little town of Maple Grove, a young boy named Leo faced the same struggle every single night: . He wiggled. He squirmed. He asked for water, for one more story, for a glass of milk, for the moon on a spoon. Nana Jo tucked him into his bed
“I don’t want to take a nap!” Leo grumbled.
Leo’s breathing slowed. The noodle traveled down his legs, and his feet stopped wiggling. Then, right as the imaginary noodle touched his toes— poof. Let it slide down
Leo sat up. “What does it do?”