After his bath, Noah put on his rocket pajamas and stood in the hallway. "Ten, nine, eight," he whispered, pretending the hallway was a rocket ship. "Three, two, one, blast off!" Mom tucked a blanket around his shoulders like a cape. "Tonight, your rocket is going to a dream," she said. "Sweet dreams, space captain."
Noah closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was standing in a tiny bakery in a tiny mountain village. Little round windows glowed gold. Outside, snowy peaks shone under a big, bright moon. The whole room smelled of warm bread and cinnamon.
Mom was there too, in a white apron with a silver star on the pocket. In this dream, she was the baker. "Welcome to our bakery, Noah," she said with a smile.
A small, round mouse in a tiny hat waved from the counter. "I'm Pip!" he squeaked. "I sweep the flour and I count the loaves. Want to help?"
"Yes, please," said Noah.
First, Noah counted the loaves on the shelf. There were seven, shaped like little rockets, with sugary tips. Pip clapped his paws. "Perfect counting!"
Then Mom put a big bowl on the table. "Tonight we are making something special," she said. "It's the Moon Bread. But there's a rule. For the last part, you must keep your eyes closed. I can't tell you what it is yet."
Noah looked at the bowl. He looked at the oven door, which was shut. He really, really wanted to peek.
Mom knelt beside him. "You don't have to see the whole plan, Noah. You only have to trust me."
Noah thought about it. Mom always knew where the extra blankets were. She always knew how to fix his wobbly bike. She had never once forgotten to be there. He took a slow, deep breath. "Okay, Mom. I trust you," he said, and he shut his eyes tight.
He heard the soft whoosh of the oven door. Mom was right beside him the whole time, and her hand rested warm on his shoulder. He heard a spoon tapping a bowl and Pip's tiny footsteps hurrying by.
"Count something while you wait," Mom said softly.
So Noah counted stars in his mind. One, two, three, all the way up to forty. Each star was a little twinkle behind his eyes. He felt calm, and the waiting felt easy.
"Open your eyes, Noah," said Mom.
On the table sat a round loaf as pale and glowing as the moon. Its crust was dusted with silver sugar. All around it, tiny star-shaped cookies were scattered like a night sky. In the middle of the loaf was a little hollow shaped like a rocket, filled with sweet golden honey.
"It's a moon with a rocket landing on it," Noah whispered.
"I wanted to surprise you," said Mom. "It needed to be a surprise to be just right."
"I'm glad I waited," said Noah.
They sat together by the round window. Mom tore the Moon Bread into warm pieces, and Pip got the crumbliest one. Noah counted the star cookies as he ate them. There were twenty-one. He shared the last one with Pip, who squeaked with delight.
Outside, the moon sat above the mountains, big and quiet. Noah's eyes grew heavy. The bakery was cozy, the bread was warm, and Mom's arm was snug around him. Trusting Mom had made the waiting easy.
The golden windows blurred softly. The stars seemed to count themselves. Noah felt his rocket drifting gently home, down through the dream, into his own soft bed. The blanket was warm and the pillow was cool. He was sleepy and safe, and he knew Mom would be there in the morning.
"Goodnight, moon," he murmured. "Goodnight, stars. Thank you."
And Noah slept.
馃寵 The End 馃寵
This story was written by AI for an example child named Noah, and it passed the same safety check every Tuck-In Tales story gets before it's sent.