Hello, friends, and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories.
Thank you to a listener on Spotify who suggested this story idea.
Do you have a dog? What is their favorite thing to eat?
Buster, the dog in our story, loves spaghetti But one day tries some sweet potato and gets a surprise Buster and the Sweet Potato Surprise Buster was no ordinary Labrador While other dogs begged for bacon or drooled over dog biscuits Buster had a very specific craving Spaghetti Long, slurpy, wonderful spaghetti Every morning, eight -year -old Diego Rivera would twist a forkful of leftover spaghetti into Buster's bright blue bowl Here you go, you silly dog, he'd say with a giggle As Buster's tail wagged so hard his whole body wiggled.
Slurp, slurp, slurp, Buster would attack his breakfast like he was competing in the spaghetti Olympics, sauce flying everywhere.
His whiskers always ended up orange, and somehow, noodles always got stuck behind his ears.
Buster, you're the messiest eater in the world, Diego's mom would laugh.
Grabbing a towel to clean the kitchen walls.
Diego's dad would shake his head with a smile.
I've never seen a dog who turns down perfectly good kibble for leftover dinner.
But Buster didn't mind being different.
Spaghetti made him happy, and that was that.
This particular morning, however, However, the Riviera family wasn't laughing about Buster's quirky eating habits.
They were rushing around the kitchen, making worried phone calls and shuffling through papers.
The truck won't start, Diego's dad said, hanging up the phone with a sigh.
Oh, and we can't find anyone to help us transport everything to the harvest festival.
Diego looked out the window at their farm stand loaded with pumpkins corn and their prize -winning sweet potatoes the ones they'd been excited to show off all week what if we can't get there Diego asked quietly his parents exchanged worried glances the harvest festival was their biggest sales day of the year.
Buster finished his spaghetti and padded over to Diego, sensing his sadness.
He nuzzled his hand with his sauce -covered nose, wishing there was something, anything he could do to help his family.
While Diego's parents made more frantic phone calls, Buster wandered outside to the garden.
The autumn air was crisp and orange leaves danced in the breeze.
He'd never paid much attention to the vegetables before.
After all, why would he when there was perfectly good spaghetti waiting in the kitchen?
But today, something caught his eye.
A pile of freshly dug sweet potatoes sat near the garden gate, their orange skins gleaming in the sunlight.
They were almost the same color as his favorite marinara sauce, Buster thought.
Curious, he sniffed one of the sweet potatoes.
It smelled earthy and sweet.
Nothing like spaghetti, but somehow appealing.
Before he could stop himself, Buster took a small bite.
Mmm, it was actually delicious.
Sweet and creamy, completely different from his usual pasta, but surprisingly satisfying.
He took another bite, then another.
As he munched, Buster's tummy started making the strangest rumbling noises, much louder and more rumbly than his usual post -spaghetti sounds.
The rumbling grew louder and more urgent.
And then it happened.
The most tremendous fart Buster had ever produced erupted from his bottom.
And suddenly, whoosh, his paws left the ground.
He shot three feet straight up into the air, spinning like a furry helicopter before landing with a surprising thud in Diego's mom's flower bed.
Buster! Diego came running from the house.
Did you just... fly?
Buster's tail wagged frantically as he scrambled out of the petunias, bits of dirt stuck in his golden fur.
He looked just as confused as Diego felt.
Mom, Dad, come quick!
Diego shouted. Buster can fly!
But his parents were too busy on the phone with the towing company to pay attention.
Try another one, Diego whispered excitedly, rolling a sweet potato toward Buster.
This time, Buster was ready.
He gobbled up half the sweet potato and the familiar rumbling began.
This fart was even more powerful.
Buster soared clear over the garden fence and landed with a crash in Mrs. Peterson's prized rose bushes next door.
Sorry, Mrs. Peterson, Diego called as Buster emerged from the thorny bushes, looking sheepish but thrilled.
As Diego helped untangle rose petals from his fur, his eyes lit up with an idea.
Maybe, just maybe, Buster's newfound flying ability could solve their festival problem.
But first, they'd need to figure out how to control his landings and find more sweet potatoes.
I have an idea, Diego announced, running back to the house with Buster trotting behind him, still picking rose petals from his tail.
He grabbed his mom's gardening basket and one of his dad's old tool belts.
Buster, what if you could fly some of our produce to the festival?
Just the small delicate stuff that would get bruised in a bumpy truck ride.
Buster tilted his head, considering this.
He wanted to help his family more than anything, but flying was still pretty scary.
What if he crashed into a tree or landed in someone's soup?
Diego carefully arranged their most precious heirloom tomatoes in the basket, then fashioned a makeshift harness around Buster's chest. We'll start with just these special tomatoes.
They're light, and Mrs. Chen at the festival pays extra for them because they're so delicate." He held up a medium -sized sweet potato.
Ready boy? Buster's stomach flip -flopped with nerves, but Diego's hopeful face made his decision easy.
easy. He gobbled up exactly half the sweet potato.
Not too much, not too little.
The familiar rumbling began.
This time Buster's takeoff was much smoother.
He soared over the farmhouse, the basket bouncing gently beneath him.
The autumn landscape looked like his favorite blanket up high and despite his nerves, Buster had to admit flying was actually pretty wonderful.
Halfway to town, the sweet potato power began to fade.
Buster's altitude dropped steadily until he landed with a soft thump in farmer Wilson's pumpkin patch. Fortunately, Diego had packed emergency sweet potato snacks.
Back in the air. The second landing happened near the town's water tower.
Munch, munch. Airborne again.
By the time Buster touched down at the Harvest Festival, this time managing a surprisingly graceful landing right next to Mrs. Chen's booth, a small crowd had gathered to watch the flying delivery dog.
Are those the Riviera heirloom tomatoes?
Mrs. Chen asked in amazement, examining the perfect unbruised fruit.
However, did you get them here so gently?
The crowd applauded as Buster's tail wagged proudly.
Word spread quickly through the festival about the amazing flying dog, and soon people were lying up to buy produce from that incredible Riviera farm with the superhero dog.
That evening, back home with their best sales day ever behind them, The Riviera family sat around the dinner table.
Diego's dad had managed to fix the truck, but everyone agreed that Buster's deliveries had saved the day.
You know, Buster, Diego said, twirling spaghetti onto his fork.
Maybe trying new foods isn't so bad after all.
Buster looked down at his dinner bowl.
His usual spaghetti with marinara, but tonight Diego had added a small side of sweet potato chunks just in case anyone needed a quick delivery tomorrow.
He wagged his tail and dug in.
Sometimes the best adventures come from the most unexpected places.
Went his tummy, just a tiny toot this time.
The whole family laughed.
And that is the end of our story.
Good night. Sleep tight.
