Hello friends and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories. Each week we share a few shoutouts and birthday wishes for listeners who help support the show. It's a small way we say thank you, and it always makes us smile. Happy belated 8th birthday to Morgan in Roberts Creek, Canada. Love from Dad, Mom, Aiden and Avery. Happy 6th birthday to our Lily Bean. You are such a kind, loving, smart and creative little girl, and it's a pleasure getting to watch you grow every day. We can't wait to see what the next year holds for you. Love Mom, Dad, Hazel, Lucy and the Guinea Pigs. Happy 6th birthday to our sweetest little hero, Cole. Mommy, Daddy, Zay, Jace and Addy love you so much. Happy 8th birthday, Charlotte. You are such a special girl and we love you so much. Love Mama, Daddy, Sissy and Georgia. Joanna, Happy birthday from Mom, Dad, Elizabeth, Thor, Kermit, Honytale, Miso and Sheriff Woody. You are a wonderfully caring, creative, smart and talented little lady. We are so proud of you. Love you times infinity, plus one. Happy birthday to Banner Stanton in Oxford, Mississippi who is turning nine on December 29th. Can you believe we've been listening to Bernice stories together for over two years? I can't. Wishing you a wonderful year full of magic and fun. Parents of love, Aunt Lizzie. And Happy 8th birthday, Simone. We are wishing you a year full of magical adventures. Keep shining bright, my shining star. We love you very much. Love Mama, Papa, Desmond and Baby Sister. Happy birthday to you all and thank you for supporting the show. If you'd like to support our podcast and enjoy ad-free episodes, unlock bonus stories and so much more, you can join Sleep Type Premium. Subscribe in just two taps via the link in the show notes. Now, on to our story. Do you have a favorite toy? Brendan has a polar bear that he loves and takes everywhere with him. Brendan and Bear talk about everything and do everything together. When Brendan notices his friend Jonathan having a bad day, he tries to help. Brendan and Bear Brendan sat cross-legged in the backyard, a plate of chocolate chip cookies balanced on his knee. Bear was propped against the fence beside him, looking as comfortable as a stuffed polar bear could look in the Australian heat. Mom found another spider this morning. Brendan said, taking a bite of cookie in the laundry basket. Bigger than yesterday's, Bear asked. Way bigger. She screamed so loud I thought a dingo got in. Was it poisonous? Brendan shrugged. Probably. Animals here are bitey. That's what Dad says. Except polar bears, Bear said. Except polar bears. You guys are nice, Brendan grinned. Cold, but nice. You've never even seen snow. That's exactly why I want to study polar bears when I grow up. You don't study things you already know about. Bear didn't respond to that, which was fine. Sometimes he asked questions, sometimes he just listened. Brendan had gotten Bear for Christmas and he'd been the best present ever. Better than the new bike. Better than the video games. Bear went everywhere with Brendan and his backpack to school, to the dentist, even to the bathroom. Brendan, Mom called from inside bath time. Brendan stood up, brushing cookie crumbs off his shorts. He grabbed Bear automatically. I still can't get in the water with you, Bear said. I know, Mom says you'll get moldy. Brendan wrinkled his nose, which is weird for a polar bear. The next morning, Bear rode to school in Brendan's backpack. One paw visible at the top. By the time art class rolled around, Brendan's favorite part of the day, Mrs. Nguyen had already spread out boxes of recycled materials. Cardboard tubes, bottle caps, egg cartons, bits of colored paper. Make your favorite animal, she'd told them. Brendan was making a polar bear, obviously. So far it had a body made from a milk carton and legs from toilet paper rolls, but no head yet. Across the table, Susie was constructing something with enormous ears. It's a bilby, she announced. Looks like a rabbit, Brendan said. Bilbies have bigger ears. That's basically a rabbit with satellite dishes. Around the room, kids were gluing and cutting and chattering. Everyone except Jonathan. He sat at his desk near the window, just doodling circles in his notebook. Not participating at all, which was weird because Jonathan usually liked art. Brendan watched him for a minute then walked over. You okay? Jonathan shrugged, lost my toy. Which one? The only one I really played with. Brendan waited but Jonathan didn't say anything else. Just kept drawing circles over and over. Maybe it'll turn up? Brendan tried. It's been three days. Brendan's backpack sat under his chair. Bear tucked safely inside. Brendan stared at Jonathan's circles for a long moment. Not really sure why. What did the kangaroo say when she lost her baby? Brendan asked. Jonathan looked up. Where's my little Joey? Get it Joey? The Joey's name is Joey? Nothing, not even a smile. From across the room Susie groaned. That joke never works, Brendan. It worked at one time. Mrs. Nguyen appeared beside them. Brendan, your polar bear needs a head. Jonathan, would you like to join us? Jonathan shook his head and went back to his circles. Brendan returned to his table but he kept glancing over at Jonathan's desk. The circles were getting bigger and bigger, filling up the whole page. When the bell rang everyone cleaned up their projects. Brendan's polar bear still didn't have a head. He carefully placed it on the drying shelf and grabbed his backpack. The heat hit Brendan the moment he stepped outside. He adjusted his backpack straps and started the walk home. Bear jostling inside with each step. Jonathan looked really sad today, Brendan said quietly. What happened? Bear's voice was muffled through the canvas. He lost his toy, the one he really liked. That must be hard. Brendan kicked at a rock on the footpath. A cuckaboo laughed from somewhere overhead. I tried to cheer him up, even told him my joey joke. The one that never works? It worked at one time. Your mom laughed because you spilled juice on yourself while telling it. Brendan smiled a bit but it faded fast. They walked in silence for a while, passed the corner shop and Mrs. Petrova's house with all the garden gnomes. At dinner dad asked how school was. Fine, Brendan said, made a polar bear without a head. Mom looked up from her plate, that's...creative? Mrs. Newin said I ran out of time. Brendan pushed his sausages around, not really eating. You feeling alright? Dad asked. Yeah, just thinking about stuff. That night Brendan lay in bed staring at Bear on his pillow. The stuffed polar bear's black button eyes caught the light from the hallway. You're thinking very loud, Bear said. Can toys think? You tell me. Brendan rolled onto his side. I have lots of toys, like heaps of them. Bear didn't respond, but you're different. The house settled around them, creaking in that way old houses do. Somewhere outside, a possum scrambled across the roof. Jonathan doesn't have heaps, Brendan whispered. He fell asleep eventually, but his dreams were full of empty circles, growing bigger and bigger until they filled the sky. Brendan woke up knowing what he had to do. He got ready for school extra slow, brushing his teeth twice, tying his shoes three times. Mom kept checking her watch. You'll miss the bus. I'm coming. He stood in front of his backpack for a long moment. Bear sat on his bed waiting like always. Brendan picked him up, felt the familiar weight, the soft fur that wasn't quite as white as it used to be. Something wrong? Bear asked. No, maybe. I don't know. He put Bear in his backpack and zipped it up before he could change his mind. At school, Brendan didn't go to his classroom. He went straight to the library where Jonathan usually sat before the bell rang. Found him at a table near the window, flipping through a book about dinosaurs, but not really reading it. Brendan sat down across from him. His backpack felt impossibly heavy in his lap. They sat in silence for what felt like forever. A clock ticked on the wall. Someone returned books at the front desk. So Brendan said finally, I was thinking. Jonathan looked up. Brendan unzipped his backpack. Slowly, each tooth of the zipper sounded too loud. He reached inside and pulled out Bear, held him for just a second longer. Maybe Bear could stay with you for a while. Jonathan's eyes went wide. Your bear? Yeah. But you take him everywhere. I know. Even to the dentist that one time, Jonathan almost smiled. Everyone knows about that. You told the dentist Bear needed a checkup too. Brendan's face went red. He has teeth, sort of. He held Bear out across the table. His arms felt shaky. Jonathan didn't take him right away. Are you sure? Brendan's throat felt weird, like he'd swallowed wrong. He nodded because he didn't trust his voice. He's really good at listening, Brendan managed, and he knows stuff about animals. Well, he asks good questions anyway. Jonathan reached out carefully, like Bear might break. Hi, he whispered. Hi, Jonathan, Bear said. Jonathan's whole face changed. His eyes got huge. He talks. Yeah. Brendan's voice came out scratchy. He does that. The bell rang sharp and loud. Brendan stood up fast, his chair scraping against the floor. His backpack hung from one shoulder, so light it felt wrong. He walked toward the door, then looked back. Jonathan was holding Bear close, already asking him questions, actually smiling. He didn't know if he felt good or bad about it. Maybe both. He went to class anyway. That afternoon, Brendan's room felt all wrong. His books were where they should be. His drawings were still stuck to the wall with blue tack. Even his polar bear poster hung in the same spot above his bed, but Bear's place on his pillow was empty, and the whole room seemed to notice. He tried reading, but kept looking at the empty spot. At dinner, Dad noticed first. Where's your polar bear? Gave him to Jonathan. Mom and Dad exchanged one of those parent looks, the kind where they have a whole conversation without talking. That was kind of you, Mom said. Brendan pushed his past around, I guess. You guess? Dad sat down his fork. I miss him already. Is that weird? No, Dad said. It'd be weird if you didn't. Mom reached over and squeezed Brendan's hand. You can change your mind, you know. Jonathan would understand. Brendan thought about it, about Bear's spot on his pillow, about his backpack feeling too light all day. No, he said finally. Jonathan needed Bear more than me. That's pretty grown up, Dad said. I don't feel grown up. I feel like my backpack's got a hole in it. Bedtime was strange without Bear's usual questions. Brendan lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the possums on the roof. It took forever to fall asleep. But the next morning at recess, he saw Jonathan actually playing with other kids near the monkey bars. Bear was visible in his backpack, one white paw sticking out the top. Jonathan looked over and waved. His smile so big, it looked like it might split his face. Brendan waved back. Something about seeing Jonathan happy made it easier. He still missed Bear that hadn't gone away. But watching Jonathan laugh at something one of the other kids said, seeing him actually happy again? That was really nice what you did, Susie said appearing beside him. Everyone keeps saying that. Because it's true? Brendan shrugged. Hey, want to hear my joey joke? Absolutely not. He grinned away. That afternoon Brendan checked out three books about arctic animals from the library. At home he spread them across his bedroom floor and started drawing polar bears again, filling a whole page with them. His backpack still felt light. His pillow still had an empty spot. But he was okay. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep tight. Good night.
