📝 Transcript
Zeepy Sleep Podcast Episode 11: The Sleepy Sun Hello, dear friends—and welcome to the Zeepy Sleep Podcast, where dreams begin and gentle lessons unfold. Tonight’s story is called *The Sleepy Sun*. As autumn arrives, Kip the Kitty notices that the sun is going to bed much earlier than usual. At first, she worries the day has been cut short. But with a little guidance from Slumber the Sloth, Kip learns that even the sun needs rest—and that earlier nights can be a time for coziness, calm, and dreams. This gentle tale helps children understand the changing seasons, while showing them the value of slowing down and finding peace in bedtime. And just before we begin, a little something for the grown-ups… We’ve launched **The Zeepy Sleep Club**—a cozy place to enjoy all our stories without intros or ads, with extra-long endings that fade into dreamy soundscapes, plus a growing library of soothing sleep soundscapes and wind-down music. It’s just $3 a month for early subscribers, with a free trial available through Apple Podcasts or find the feed via the link in the show notes. And if you’re in the UK, our new **Kip the Kitty 4-Phase Sleep Clock** is now on Amazon. Loved by thousands of families, it uses calming lights to guide children gently through wind down, bedtime, and wake-up—making routines calmer and easier. Now, let’s take a soft breath together, snuggle in close, and begin tonight’s gentle adventure: *The Sleepy Sun.*
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**Narrator:\ **The Moonbeam Cat Café is alive with the golden glow of late afternoon. Sunlight spills through the windows, painting long stripes across the floor, like warm ribbons that stretch and curl around the tables and cushions. The smell of honey cakes drifts through the air, and the gentle sound of a kettle whistles from the kitchen. Kip the Kitty, with her paws tucked neatly under her chest, sits on the wide windowsill. She blinks her bright green eyes at the light outside. But tonight, something feels… different. \[Pause, softer tone]\ The golden light fades… sooner than usual. The sky blushes with pinks and purples, as if the sun is yawning a very big, very sleepy yawn. **Kip:\ **“Wait a minute… it can’t be bedtime yet. The sun is going to sleep too early!” Her whiskers twitch. Her tail flicks with confusion. Kip has plans — chasing butterflies in the garden, rolling in the last patches of sunlight, playing just a little bit more. But outside, the shadows are already growing long. The café lamps are glowing warmly. It feels as though the whole world is gently reminding Kip: it’s time to slow down. **Narrator:\ **Kip presses her paws to the glass, peering out at the sky. “Why is the sun leaving so soon? Did it forget the time?” The sky deepens into lavender. The first star twinkles, shy and small, above the rooftops. Kip’s ears perk at its glimmer, but her heart feels unsettled. **Narrator (direct to listener):\ **Have you noticed this too, dear friend? The way the sky darkens earlier and earlier when the seasons change? Let’s pause together for just a moment.\ Take a slow, deep breath in… \[pause for inhale]… and let it drift gently out… \[pause for exhale]. Watch the light changing, just like Kip does now. \[Background cue: gentle wind through leaves, faint evening bird calls] **Narrator:** The café cats begin to curl into their cushions. Mittens sighs happily, already drifting into a doze. But Kip shakes her head. “No, no, it’s not time yet. The day should be longer. I want more sunlight. I want the sun to stay.” Her little chest rises and falls quickly with her words, her paws tapping against the sill. Kip’s feelings bubble like a kettle that’s too full. She doesn’t understand why the world has changed without asking her. \[Slower, softening the pace just a little.] Outside, the sun dips lower, brushing the horizon with sleepy strokes of orange and gold. The shadows stretch until they touch the edge of the café garden. The light slips further, further, until it feels as though the whole world is whispering, *hush now, hush.* Kip presses her nose against the cool glass. A small sigh escapes her. “Maybe someone knows why the sun is so sleepy…” And with that thought, Kip hops down from the windowsill, her paws padding softly across the wooden floor. She slips through the little cat door into the night air, her heart curious, her steps quick. She knows exactly who to ask… \[ Transition cue: gentle forest sounds begin, soft night ambiance.] **Narrator (direct to listener):\ **Shall we follow her? Let’s step with Kip into the cool twilight. **Narrator:\ **Kip steps out into the garden, her paws brushing against the cool grass. The air smells of damp earth and autumn leaves, and the last of the day’s warmth lingers only faintly in the soil. Above her, the sky stretches wide and violet, sprinkled with early stars. But Kip still feels restless. **Kip (soft but determined):\ ** “The sun wasn’t supposed to go to sleep so soon. What if it never comes back? What if every day gets shorter and shorter until there’s no day at all?” Her tail swishes back and forth, as quick as her thoughts. She pads down the winding path toward the forest’s edge, where the tall trees stand like sleepy guardians, their branches creaking softly in the evening wind. \[Background cue: gentle breeze, night insects beginning their chorus] **Narrator (direct to listener):\ **Have you ever felt that way, dear friend? When something changes and it doesn’t make sense? It can feel confusing, even worrying. Let’s pause together and take a slow, steady breath in… \[pause for inhale]… and a soft, easy breath out… \[pause for exhale]. Just like Kip, we can breathe through our big questions. **Narrator:\ **Kip’s paws crunch lightly over fallen leaves. She watches the sky through the gaps in the trees, waiting for the sun to peek back out. But the horizon only darkens. The lavender turns indigo. The stars shimmer brighter, one by one, like tiny lanterns hung in the heavens. Kip’s chest feels tight. “Maybe the sun is tired of shining. Maybe it doesn’t want to play anymore.” Her whiskers droop. For a moment, she sits at the base of a tree, curling her paws beneath her and pressing her nose into her fur. The world feels so big, and she feels so small. \[Slow the narration — add a tone of reassurance] **Narrator:\ **But then… a soft rustle comes from the branches above. A gentle, sleepy voice floats down like a feather on the breeze. **Voice of Slumber:\ ** “Kip… what brings you out here so late?” Kip blinks up, her eyes catching the familiar shape of Slumber the Sloth. He hangs lazily from a sturdy branch, his fur glowing silver in the starlight. His slow, warm eyes blink kindly at her, as though he has been waiting all along. **Kip (relieved but hurried):\ ** “Oh, Slumber! The sun went to bed too soon tonight. I wanted it to stay longer, but it just… disappeared. What if the days keep shrinking until there’s no light left?” She hops closer, her paws soft against the mossy ground. **Narrator:\ **Slumber stretches one long arm, as if embracing the entire night sky. His voice is slow, calm, and soothing, each word like a leaf drifting gently on water. **Slumber:\ ** “Ah, little Kip… the sun hasn’t left you. It’s only resting. Even the brightest lights need their time to sleep.” **Narrator:\ ** Slumber blinks slowly, his soft eyes reflecting the moonlight. His words float down like lullabies woven into the night. **Slumber:\ ** “Kip, have you noticed how the leaves are turning golden? How the air is cooler, and the breeze carries the scent of pine and earth? The world is changing because the season is changing. Autumn has come.” Kip tilts her head, her whiskers twitching. She glances at the trees around her—their leaves glowing in shades of amber, rust, and honey under the silver moonlight. She hadn’t paid much attention before. **Kip (thoughtful):\ ** “So… the shorter days, the sleepy sun—it’s all part of autumn?” Slumber nods, his slow smile warm as a blanket. **Slumber:\ ** “Yes, little one. Just as you curl up for a nap after a busy day, the sun curls up earlier in autumn to give the world more time for rest. Nature has its rhythms. The flowers bloom in spring, the days are long in summer, and in autumn, the sun says, ‘It’s time to slow down. It’s time to rest a little earlier.’” \[Background cue: soft wind through the branches, a gentle hush] **Narrator (direct to listener):\ ** Can you imagine the sun tucking itself under a golden blanket of clouds, yawning a great big yawn? Let’s yawn with it… \[pause for a big yawn sound]. And now, let’s take a slow breath in… \[inhale]… and a gentle breath out… \[exhale]. Just like the sun, we can rest too. **Narrator:\ **Kip’s tail flicks thoughtfully. She watches the horizon, now fully dark, where the last streak of orange has faded into deep indigo. **Kip (softly):\ ** “I thought the sun leaving early was unfair. I wanted more time to play. But maybe it’s not unfair… maybe it’s just… nature’s way of reminding us to be cozy.” **Slumber:\ ** “That’s right. When the sun rests, it’s a gift. The stars appear, the forest grows calm, and creatures tuck themselves in. The world slows down, so we can too.” Kip breathes deeply, her little chest rising and falling. For the first time that evening, her whiskers relax, and her paws feel steady against the earth. **\ **The stars above twinkle brighter, as though nodding in agreement with Slumber’s words. The forest hums with crickets, and the gentle river nearby whispers its steady song. Kip leans closer to Slumber’s tree, curling her tail around her paws. Her eyes glimmer with new understanding. **Kip (soft and sleepy):\ ** “So… when the sun rests, I can rest too.” Slumber’s smile grows, his voice now low and velvety, carrying the weight of a lullaby. **Slumber:\ ** “Yes, Kip. When the sun rests, we can all rest. And tomorrow, when it rises again, the world will be ready for new adventures.” Kip nods slowly, her heart warming. She feels safe, knowing that even the sun needs sleep. **Narrator:\ **Kip curls her paws beneath her, her body sinking into the soft moss at the foot of Slumber’s tree. The night feels quieter now, calmer—as though the whole forest is listening. Slumber shifts his weight slowly, wrapping his long arms around himself like a cozy blanket. His voice is slow and low, like a distant drumbeat guiding Kip—and us—into rest. **Slumber:\ ** “Let’s breathe with the night, little one. In… nice and gentle. Out… nice and slow. Just like the leaves swaying in the breeze.” \[Pause for a long, slow inhale and exhale sound.] **Narrator (direct to listener):** Can you try that too? Let’s take a deep, soft breath in together… \[inhale]… and let it out slowly, like a sigh of relief… \[exhale]. Again—breathe in, filling up your tummy… and out, letting everything soften. \[Background cue: soft wind through trees, longer pause here.] **Narrator:\ ** Kip closes her eyes for a moment, listening to the forest’s nighttime song. She can hear the crickets chirping like tiny fiddles. She can hear the gentle river trickling nearby. She can even hear her own breath, steady and slow, joining the music of the night. **Kip (whispering):\ ** “It feels… good, Slumber. Like my whole body is melting into the moss.” Slumber chuckles softly, a warm, rumbling sound. **Slumber:\ ** “That is the magic of slowing down. When the world gets quiet, we can listen to our hearts, to our breathing, to the calm inside us. Just like the sun, we rest, so tomorrow we can shine again.” **Narrator (direct to listener):\ ** Can you imagine you are the sun, gently sinking into a soft golden bed of clouds? Picture yourself tucking in, wrapped in warmth. **Narrator:\ ** Kip yawns, a long, sweet yawn, and stretches her paws forward. Her tail flicks once, twice, before curling neatly around her. **Kip (sleepily):\ ** “The sun rests… I can rest too.” Slumber nods, eyes half-closed. His words are almost a whisper now. **Slumber:\ ** “Yes, little one. You can rest. The forest rests. Even the stars rest in their twinkling. Everything has its time.” **Narrator (direct to listener):\ ** Let’s say it together, softly, like a secret: *When the sun rests, I can rest too.* \[Pause for the mantra, whispered gently.] **Narrator:\ **Kip repeats the words quietly to herself, almost like a lullaby. The forest seems to echo them back—the rustle of the trees, the hum of the river, the soft twinkle of the stars. Her eyelids grow heavy. Her whiskers stop twitching. Her breath slows into the rhythm of sleep. The night holds her safe, just as it holds Slumber, and just as it holds you. **Narrator:\ ** As Kip lies curled in the moss, the whole forest seems to sigh with her. It is as though the trees themselves have been waiting for her to rest, so they can rest too. The tall oaks lean closer, their branches brushing gently together like soft applause. The little flowers tuck in their petals, folding themselves into tiny blankets of dew. Even the fireflies dim their lights, glowing softly, like lanterns carried low. **Narrator (direct to listener):\ **Can you imagine the whole forest drifting to sleep with you? Every tree, every flower, every bird… all slowing down. All saying goodnight. \[Pause for effect, a long moment of quiet with only soft soundscape.] **Narrator:\ ** Slumber hums a gentle tune—slow, steady, like a heartbeat. Kip’s ears twitch, and she lets the sound wash over her like a warm blanket. **Slumber (softly, almost singing):\ ** “Everything has its time… the sun rests, the moon glows… the forest dreams, and so do we.” **Narrator:\ ** The words float like silver mist through the branches, wrapping Kip—and you—in their calm. **Narrator (direct to listener):\ **Let’s breathe with the forest now. In… \[inhale]… like a tree filling its leaves with moonlight. Out… \[exhale]… like the breeze letting go, drifting through the night. \[Pause, allow for two full slow breaths.] **Narrator:\ ** The forest whispers back with its own lullaby. The crickets play their gentle fiddles. The river hums its endless tune. The stars above twinkle in time, their rhythm slow and steady. **Narrator:\ ** Kip whispers, eyes closed, words soft as a feather: **Kip (sleepily):\ ** “I am safe… I belong… I am part of this forest, part of the night, part of the stars.” Slumber nods, eyes heavy too. His voice is a low murmur, like the earth speaking through him. **Slumber:\ ** “Yes, little one. You are safe. You are loved. You are part of everything good and gentle. And everything good and gentle is part of you.” \[ Pacing slows further here—like a lullaby winding down.] **Narrator (direct to listener):\ ** Can you whisper those words with Kip? *I am safe… I belong… I am loved.* \[Pause, very soft music cue.] **Narrator:\ ** The forest seems to answer back. The trees creak a little as if saying yes. The river sparkles a little brighter. Even the stars twinkle in agreement. Kip feels wrapped up not just in moss, but in the whole wide world’s embrace. She sighs, a long, gentle sigh, and her whiskers grow still. Her tail curls tighter. Her breath slows until it matches the heartbeat of the night. **Narrator (direct to listener):\ ** And you too, dear one, are safe. You belong. You are loved. The world is holding you close, just like Kip. The forest dreams now. And it invites you to dream too. **Narrator:\ ** The night has grown still. The forest has tucked itself into bed. And up above, the sleepy sun has vanished completely behind the hills, leaving only a faint glow, like a candle just blown out. Kip opens one eye and whispers into the hush: **Kip (softly):\ ** “Goodnight, Sun. Sleep well.” Her words float upward, carried by the gentle breeze. And though the sun cannot answer, Kip feels its warmth linger, a golden memory resting in her fur. **Narrator:\ ** Slumber stretches slowly, his arms wide, his body moving as gently as the branches swaying overhead. He blinks in the starlight, his eyes heavy and kind. **Slumber:\ ** “The sun rests, so we may rest. Tomorrow it will rise again, brighter for having slept. And so will you, little one.” Kip purrs, a soft rumble like the earth itself breathing. She nestles her nose into the moss, tail curled around her paws, her whole body melting into the comfort of night. \[Pause for effect, long gentle silence with faint purring sound effect.] **Narrator (direct to listener):\ ** Let’s take one last deep breath together. In… \[inhale slowly]… feel the warmth of the sun still glowing in your heart. Out… \[exhale slowly]… let your body grow heavy, like Kip’s, sinking into the soft moss. \[Two full breaths, very slow.] **Narrator:\ ** Above them, the stars twinkle kindly. The moon hums a lullaby, its glow spilling like silver milk across the river. Every ripple of water, every rustle of leaf, every sigh of the forest joins in the song of rest. **Narrator (soft, slower now):** **\ ** Kip drifts, dream by dream, into sleep. Slumber drifts too, wrapped in the same blanket of night. And you, dear one, are drifting with them. Safe, calm, loved. \[ Musical pause, a few quiet notes.] **Narrator:\ ** The sleepy sun has taught us something tonight. Even the brightest lights must rest, so they can shine again tomorrow. And just like the sun, your rest tonight will bring you new energy, new joy, new light when morning comes. **Narrator (direct to listener, mantra):\ ** Whisper with me: *When the sun rests, I can rest too.* \[Pause.] Again, softer: *When the sun rests, I can rest too.* \[Pause.] One last time, barely more than a breath: *When the sun rests, I can rest too.* \[Pause for long exhale.] **Narrator:\ ** The forest is quiet now. Kip is dreaming. Slumber is dreaming. The sun is dreaming. And soon… you will be too. So close your eyes, dear friend. Let the stars guard you, let the moon guide you, and let your dreams carry you gently into the night. Goodnight. Sleep deeply. Dream sweetly. \
