A short message for grown-ups.
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That's nextplayground.com to explore active family gaming today.
A short message for grown-ups.
Looking for a fun way to keep the Bluey fans in your home busy with imaginative, screen-free play?
The Bluey Supermarket Play Set is here standing, over 15 inches tall and packed with surprises across three levels of fun.
Inspired by the episode Kids, this set comes with exclusive Bluey and Bingo figures, including Bingo holding her lollipop.
There's a real working escalator, a rooftop cafe and even an intercom with 24 different sound effects your kids will love.
With over 15 play pieces, shelves to explore, carts to fill and stickers to decorate, your little ones can recreate favorite scenes or invent new ones of their own.
It also works with all your other Bluey figures for even more imaginative adventures.
The Bluey supermarket playset is available at all major retailers.
Hello, friends, and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories.
Each week, we share a few shout-outs 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 birthday Eve from Wallington, New Jersey, and good luck this school year.
We love you, Mommy and Poppy.
Happy birthday to Sophia in Mexico City from Dad and Mom.
We love you so much.
Happy 8th birthday, Quinn, on September 5th.
You are a gun-loving, Quinny-boo-boo bear.
Love, Mom and Dad.
Happy birthday to Cora, who is turning 9.
Mom, Thomas, Donovan, and Luna love you very much.
A big berry happy 7th birthday to Lulu.
We love your sweet, curious, and silly sense of humor.
Excited for new adventures and, of course, listening to Bernice Bear.
Honey and Cookie, love you to the moon and back and can't wait to see all the amazing things year seven will bring.
Happy seventh birthday, Clark, from Dallas, Texas.
We love you so much and are so proud of you.
Keep doing your silly hamster voice when you're seven.
It always makes us smile.
Never stop being you.
Love, Mom, Dad, Walker, Lulu, and Gus.
Happy 10th birthday to Laylee, little boo thing.
Mom, Dad, Kaya, Cooper, Puddles, and Gracie couldn't love you more.
Wishing you the best 10th year ever.
Enjoy fifth grade and being the oldest in the school.
Love your family who loves you to the moon and back.
And happy 10th birthday to Jackson from Cedar Hills, Utah on September 6th.
Mom and dad are very proud of you.
What an amazing decade it has been being your parents.
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, onto our story.
Pip is a penguin who is learning to swim with the other small penguins.
And Mrs. Flippers is very patient.
Flip is finally doing well at something and is very excited when she does something unusual.
The Penguin Who Quacked.
Okay, chicks, beaks up, flippers steady, Mrs. Flippers called from the edge of the ice pool.
Swimming is all about confidence.
Pip paddled frantically in the shallow water, her fuzzy gray feathers getting soaked.
Around her, the other penguin chicks splashed and flapped, trying their best to copy Mrs Flipper's graceful glide.
Well, trying their best-ish.
Squeaky kept whining about the cold water.
Peep was going in endless circles because she couldn't figure out how to go straight.
I can't feel my toes, Chirp squeaked from somewhere behind Pip.
Penguins don't really have toes, Mrs. Flipper said patiently.
Just keep those webbed feet moving.
Pip was actually doing pretty well, better than usual anyway.
She discovered that if she pretended she was dancing underwater instead of swimming, her flippers moved more smoothly.
Like a happy, bouncy underwater dance to a song only she could hear.
Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack.
The little tune bounced in her head, silly and cheerful and...
Very good, Pip, Mrs. Flippers called.
You're really getting the hang of... That's when Pip got excited.
Really excited.
She was finally good at something in swimming class.
She opened her beak to cheer and quack!
The sound burst out, bubbling through the water, every chick froze mid-paddle.
They just floated staring.
Mrs flipper's beak fell open.
She looked at the sky, then back at pip, then at the sky again did did a duck just fall from the clouds.
She whispered, scanning for stray feathers, Squeaky giggled, then Peep giggled, then Chirp snort laughed, shot water up her nose and coughed, which made everyone laugh even harder.
Pip's fuzzy face burned under her feathers.
The happy dancing song in her head screeched to a stop.
I, um, uh, what could she even say?
Oh yes, Mrs Flippers, that was just me making duck noises like some kind of half penguin, half duck.
Quack, quack, Squeaky flapped wildly.
Look at me, I'm Pip the duck penguin.
Squeaky, that's enough, Mrs Flippers said, though her beak twitched like she was holding back a smile.
Everyone back to swimming, and Pip, perhaps save your vocal exercises for after class?
Pip nodded miserably and sank until only her eyes and the top of her head peeked above the water.
But even under the surface, she could hear the others still giggling and quacking.
This was exactly why she tried so hard to stay quiet during lessons.
But here was the thing.
That silly little song in her head, it wasn't going anywhere.
Even embarrassed and wishing she could vanish, she could still hear it humming softly.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
And the worst part?
Deep down where she'd never admit it to anyone, she actually liked the sound.
After swimming class, Pip waddled home along the familiar ice path, still dripping and trying not to hear the whispers from a few of the other chicks.
The colony was busy with its usual afternoon rhythm adults sharing the day's fish, older penguins basking on warm rocks and chicks sliding down icy slopes squealing with laughter.
Home was a cozy nook tucked between two big boulders that blocked the sharp Antarctic wind.
Papa Waddle was there, carefully arranging their small collection of smooth pebbles.
He was very proud of his rock garden, while Mama Beak was preening her shiny black feathers.
How was swimming today, little one?
Papa Waddle asked, though Pip's droopy posture probably already answered the question.
Um, fine, Pip mumbled, which in parents' speak meant absolutely terrible.
But please don't make me talk about it."
Mama Beak and Papa Waddle exchanged one of those parent looks.
They'd been doing that a lot lately.
The truth was Pip's quacking had been going on for weeks.
At first, her parents thought she might have a cold or something stuck in her throat.
Then they wondered if she'd been spending too much time around the skua birds, which was silly, because skuas were mean and terrifying.
Now, though, they just looked worried.
You know we love you exactly as you are, right, Pip?
Mama Beak said gently, settling beside her.
Even if you're a little...unique.
Unique.
That was the word grown-ups used, when they really meant weird but were trying to sound nice about it.
I know, Mama, Pip said.
But inside, her secret song kept playing.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
She hummed it sometimes when she thought no one was listening.
It had this bouncy, happy rhythm that made her want to dance.
But she was too embarrassed to let anyone hear.
Pip!
Pip!
That was Splash her best friend zooming down the ice slope at top speed and crash landing in a heap of snow near Pip's boulder home.
Splash was the kind of penguin who did everything at maximum energy and minimum coordination.
Did you really make Mrs. Slippers think a duck fell out of the sky?
Splash asked, shaking snow out of her feathers.
Because Chirp told Peep, who told Squeaky's older brother, who told basically everyone.
And now they're saying you might actually be part duck.
I'm not part duck, Pip muttered miserably.
I know that, but wouldn't it be awesome if you were?
You could fly and swim.
Splash flopped down beside her.
I wish I could make cool sounds.
All I can do is this.
She opened her beak and let out the plainest, most ordinary penguin peep ever.
Pip almost smiled.
Almost.
Splash always tried to make her feel better, even if she didn't really understand why Pip was upset.
That's what best friends were for.
Over the next few days, Pip tried everything she could think of to sound like a normal penguin.
First, she practiced behind the ice caves where no one could hear her.
She'd waddle to the very back.
Take a deep breath and try to make the most penguin-like peep possible.
Peep, she whispered.
Peep, peep.
But the moment she got excited or spoke louder than a whisper, quack.
And the worst part?
The caves had amazing echoes.
Her quacks bounced back in rich musical waves.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
Like an invisible choir singing her secret song.
She hated how much she loved that sound.
Next, she stuffed kelp in her beak.
That just made her sound like she was talking with her mouth full, and the kelp tasted awful.
Plus, Chirp caught her and asked her if she was sick.
I'm fine, Pip tried to say, but it came out as, I'm fine, through all the seaweed.
Then she tried only whispering for two whole days.
She spoke so softly, everyone kept asking her to repeat herself.
Mrs. Flippers even checked her ears to see if something was wrong with her hearing.
But the real disaster came at fish sharing time.
Old Whiskers.
The grumpy seal who was always sneaking around had crept close to the colony's fresh catch.
The adults were busy chatting and didn't notice him inching nearer and nearer.
Pip saw him first.
Without thinking, she opened her beak to warn everyone.
Quack!
The sound was so loud and sudden that old whiskers shot three feet into the air, slipped across the ice and splashed straight into the ocean.
The penguins all turned, saw what happened, and burst into cheers.
Way to go, Pip, someone called.
Our little guard duck, Papa Waddle said proudly.
But all Pip heard was duck.
Her feathers burned with embarrassment.
They weren't cheering because she was brave.
They were laughing because she was the penguin who quacked.
That evening, Elder Beak's voice ran out across the colony.
In one week, our young penguins will take the first dive from the big rock.
You'll show your swimming skills and your calls, proving you're ready to join the colony as full members.
Pip's stomach dropped clear to her webbed feet.
Standing in front of the whole colony?
Making penguin sounds?
She'd rather dive into a pool of icy krill.
This is going to be amazing, Splash whispered.
We'll show everyone how good we are at swimming.
But Pip's mind raced with what-ifs.
What if I quack in front of everyone?
What if they all laugh?
What if they decide I don't belong here at all?
That night she made up her mind.
She wouldn't do it.
She'd hide in the caves or pretend to be sick.
Anything but stand on that rock and quack in front of everyone.
As she drifted into sleep, her secret song played sadly in her head.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
Why couldn't she just be normal?
Three days before the ceremony, Pip couldn't take it anymore.
She found Splash practicing her dives near the tide pools and pulled her aside.
I need to tell you something, Pip said. glancing around to make sure no one else was listening.
But you have to promise not to laugh.
I promise, Splash said, though she was bouncing with curiosity.
Pip took a deep breath.
You know how I make those duck sounds?
Yeah.
Well, I have this song in my head.
And it's all quacks and it's really silly, but I can't stop hearing it and The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
What does it sound like?
Splash asked.
Pip's face grew hot.
I can't.
It's too embarrassing.
Come on.
It's just me.
So Pip, feeling like her feathers might burst from nerves... softly hummed her secret tune.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
Splash tilted her head, listening.
When Pip finished, she was quiet for a moment.
That's actually kind of pretty, Splash said at last.
It has a rhythm like real music.
Really?
For a heartbeat, Pip felt a flicker of hope.
Yeah, but Splash hesitated her beak opening and closing, as if she were searching for the right words.
Maybe you could learn to sing it with regular penguin sounds instead.
Like, fix it so it's normal.
The word fix hit Pip like a block of ice.
Even Splash.
Her best friend, the one who usually thought everything about her was fine, thought she needed fixing.
Right, Pip said quietly.
Fixed.
I didn't mean it like that.
I just meant... But Pip was already waddling away.
I have to help Mama with... stuff.
That night, Pip sat alone in her favorite ice cave. the one with the best echoes.
She sang her quack song once more, listening as it bounced off the walls in that magical way that usually made her feel less alone.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
But this time, the sound didn't make her happy.
It only made her chest ache.
Tomorrow, she would tell her parents she was too sick to join the first dive.
Better to stay hidden than stand in front of everyone and be laughed at.
She curled up in a ball, tucking her beak under her wing and wondered what it would be like to never make another sound again.
On the morning of first dive, Pip was all set to fake a stomachache when the wind began to howl.
Not the usual Antarctic breeze.
This was serious weather.
Snow whipped sideways across the colony and the gusts made even the adults huddle close, calling the chicks to stay near.
From their boulder shelter, Pip peeked out into the storm.
Perhaps we should postpone, Mama Beak said.
But Elder Beak was already climbing the big rock.
A little wind never hurt anyone, he boomed.
Our young penguins must learn to swim in all conditions.
So the ceremony began with everyone gathered at the main pool despite the storm.
Pip stayed close to her parents. secretly relieved.
Maybe she could blend into the crowd and not be noticed at all.
The wind roared so loudly she could barely hear Elder Beak's announcements.
One by one the chicks stepped forward.
Squeaky went first showing off with fancy flips.
Chirp followed so nervous she forgot to call out.
The storm only grew stronger, making every voice sound thin and scattered.
And then it happened.
Little Peep, timid sweet Peep who always stayed near the others, swam too far out.
A sudden gust sent a wave rolling, pushing her toward the dangerous currents at the end of the pool she cried, but her small voice vanished in the storm.
Help!
Peep!
Peep!
Adult penguins shouted in alarm, but the wind tore their voices apart.
Elder Beak honked out orders that no one else could make sense of.
Mrs Flippers dove into the water, but the waves and snow made it impossible to see where Peep had gone.
She's drifting toward the current, Papa Waddle called.
Over there.
No, that way, another voice shouted.
Everyone was making noise, but it was just noise.
Scattered, panicked, useless.
Pip's heart thudded as she watched Peep grow smaller in the distance.
And in that moment, something fierce rose inside her.
This wasn't about embarrassment.
It wasn't about sounding normal.
This was about saving her friend.
Pip stepped to the edge, filled her lungs with the deepest breath she'd ever taken and let out the loudest, clearest sound of her life.
Quack!
The quack sliced through the storm like a blade of sunlight.
Every penguin in the colony whipped their heads toward her.
Quack!
Quack!
Quack!
Pip called again, pointing with her flipper toward Peep's struggling shape.
Quack!
Quack!
And in that instant, Pip understood something extraordinary.
Her secret song, the rhythms she'd always hidden, the sound she'd been so ashamed of.
It wasn't just silly noise.
It was strong.
It was clear.
It was hers.
She had found her voice, and it was going to save the day.
Quack quack quack, Pip cried, using her song's rhythm to point left toward Peep drifting in the waves.
Quack, quack.
Mrs. Flippers instantly understood and swam in that direction.
Quack, Pip called when she was close.
Quack, quack, when she needed to adjust.
The rescue team followed Pip's voice like a beacon.
Her clear, strong quacks sliced through the storm, guiding them straight to Little Peep.
Within minutes, Mrs Flippers had scooped up the frightened chick and was bringing her safely back to shore.
The moment they reached land, the whole colony erupted in cheers.
Not mocking laughter this time, but true celebration.
That was incredible, Elder Beak boomed.
Your voice saved Peep.
Squeaky waddled over, looking sheepish.
I'm sorry I teased you, she murmured.
That was...
Really cool.
Could you teach me how to make sounds like that?
You want to learn my quack song?
Pip asked, hardly believing it.
Are you kidding?
That was like having a lighthouse in your throat, Chirp added.
I wish I could cut through noise like that.
Even Little Peep, still shivering from her adventures, managed to smile.
Your voice found me when I was lost, she whispered.
Thank you, Pip.
Papa Waddle and Mama Beak rushed over, wrapping Pip in the biggest, warmest hug.
We're so proud of you, Mama Beak said, tears freezing on her feathers.
You used your special gift to help, Papa Waddle added.
That's what makes a true penguin.
Not the sound you make, but how you use it.
Elder Beak cleared his throat importantly.
Pip, would you serve as our colony's official weather voice for storms and emergencies?
Pip looked around at all the faces.
No longer laughing, but full of respect. and gratitude.
Her voice played in her head again, proud and joyful.
Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack.
I'd love to, she said.
Her voice came out clear and strong and wonderfully quacky.
The next week, swimming lessons were different.
Okay, everyone, into the water, Mrs. Flippers called.
And remember, Pip is here if we need emergency signals.
Pip slid into the pool with her friends, no longer hiding at the back.
When she finally nailed a tricky underwater turn, she let out a cheerful quack without even thinking.
Instead of giggles...
Splash quacked back, badly, but with gusto.
Chirp tried too, sounding more like a squeaky toy than a duck.
Even Squeaky gave it a go, producing a honk-quack hybrid that sent everyone laughing in the best way.
"'Are we sure this is penguin class?'
Mrs. Flippers asked, amused."
Or is this duck school now?
Both, Pip called happily.
We're teaching each other.
And they were.
Pip showed her friends how different quack rhythms could mean different things.
Over here.
Look out.
Good job.
Meanwhile, they taught her some of the traditional penguin calls she'd never quite learned.
It sounded chaotic.
It sounded unlike any other colony in Antarctica.
It sounded perfect.
Later that afternoon, Pip practiced her new role as weather voice with Elder Beak.
Dark clouds gathered on the horizon.
She drew a deep breath and let her warning ring out.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
All across the colony, penguins secured their nests and gathered their chicks.
Some of the younger ones echoed her call, creating a chorus of mixed quacks and peeps, silly and serious all at once.
Excellent work, Elder Beak said.
You've given everyone time to prepare.
As Pip waddled home, her song played again in her head.
But it wasn't secret anymore.
It was hers.
Her gift.
Her way of helping.
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack.
She hummed it out loud as she walked, not caring who heard.
Behind her, Splash tried to hum along, completely off rhythm, but grinning anyway.
That night, as the storm rolled in and the colony rested safely thanks to her call, Pip drifted off to sleep with a smile.
Tomorrow there would be more swimming, more friends learning her quack language and more adventures where being different turned out to be exactly what everyone needed.
She couldn't wait.
And that is the end of our story.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
