Bedtime Stories for Newborns

There is something about a quiet voice in a dim room that turns even the simplest words into a kind of lullaby. This story follows Mimo, a small rabbit who potters around his garden pulling carrots, chasing peas, and saying good night to every vegetable before climbing into bed. It is built for bedtime stories for newborns, with slow repetition, soft sounds, and nothing louder than a sneeze, so your baby can float on the rhythm of your voice while you hold them close. If you want to tuck your own baby's name and favorite details into a story like this one, Sleepytale lets you create a personalized version in just a few taps.

Why Newborn Stories Work So Well at Bedtime

Newborns are not following a plot. They are listening for patterns, for the rise and fall of a familiar voice, for sounds that repeat and land softly. A story built around short phrases and gentle onomatopoeia gives their brain something steady to rest on, like being rocked in words. That predictability is what makes a bedtime story for newborns feel safe, even before your baby understands a single sentence.

Reading aloud also does something for you as the parent. It slows your breathing. It gives the late night feed or the final cuddle a shape, a beginning and an end, so the whole routine feels a little more anchored. When the words are simple enough that you barely have to think, you can focus on the warmth of your baby against your chest and let the story carry both of you toward sleep.

Mimo's Big Silly Garden Bedtime

11 min 57 sec

Mimo is a little rabbit.
Soft and small.
He has big ears, and he wiggles them when he is thinking, which is most of the time.
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.
Hee-hee.

It is morning.
The sun is gentle, the sky pale blue, and somewhere a bird says tweet-tweet, good morning, as if it has been waiting.
Mimo says, good morning, garden.

Mimo loves to garden.
He loves to dig and water and sing to seeds in a voice that is mostly humming and partly nonsense.

Hello, tiny seeds, Mimo says.
Wake up, tiny seeds.
Stretch, tiny seeds.

The seeds do not talk, but they listen.
They listen with quiet seed ears.
That is very silly, and Mimo knows it, and he giggles anyway.

Mimo's garden is big.
It might be the biggest garden anywhere.
Carrots stand tall and orange.
Tomatoes sit red and round.
Peas are small and green.
Lettuce is curly.
Pumpkins are huge and bouncy-looking.
Cucumbers stretch out long and cool.
Potatoes play hide-and-seek in the dirt.
Onions sit like little moons, half-buried and patient.

Mimo looks at all of it.
Wow.
So many colors, so many shapes.

He wears a tiny sun hat that does not fit right.
It flops over one ear.
Flop, flop.

Whoops, says Mimo.
Hat, please stay.

The hat slides sideways again, slowly, like it has its own ideas.
Mimo smiles.
Okay, silly hat.
You can be silly.
I will be silly too.

Hop, hop, hop to the carrots.
He checks one.
Is it ready?

He pulls a little.
The carrot peeks up, just the orange tip, shy about the whole thing.
Mimo whispers, hello, carrot.

He hums.
Hum-hum-hummm.
Then he pulls again.
Pop.

Out comes a carrot with a wild green hairdo sticking up in every direction.
Oh my whiskers, says Mimo.
Fancy hair, carrot.
Very fancy.

Mimo laughs, and the carrot seems to laugh too, which is impossible, but that is the kind of garden this is.

Over at the peas, Mimo waters them carefully.
Drip, drip, drip.
The water catches light and makes tiny rainbows that last about half a second.
The pea pods bob like they are clapping.
Clap clap.
Mimo claps back.
Clap clap.

He counts.
One pea, two peas, three peas, four.
Then more spill out, rolling across the soil like green marbles.

Mimo says, wait, peas.
He chases them in slow, bouncy hops and scoops them into a little bowl.

Thank you, peas.
Good rolling.

At the tomatoes, Mimo makes a joke.
Knock-knock, says Mimo.
Who's there, says Mimo in a deeper voice.
Tomato.
Tomato who?
Tomato be careful, we are squishy.

He giggles so hard that his hat flops right over his eyes, and for a moment he just stands there, blind and laughing.
He peeks out from under the brim.
Hello, tomatoes.
You are red like smiles and kisses.

He picks two.
One for soup, one for a snack.

The lettuce is curly and wavy, like a green ocean frozen mid-wave.

Mimo says, shhh, listen to the lettuce waves.
Whooosh, whooosh.
He pretends to surf on a tiny leaf balanced on his paw.
Swish.

The leaf falls.
Plop.
Mimo laughs.

A butterfly visits.
Yellow and very small.
It lands on Mimo's nose, right on the soft pink part.

Hello, butterfly, says Mimo, trying not to move.
The butterfly tickles.
Tickle, tickle.
Mimo sneezes.
Ah-choo.

The butterfly loops up and around, unbothered.
Mimo bows.
Thank you, little friend.
Good loop.

The sun climbs higher.
The garden gets warm.
Mimo drinks water.
Sip, sip.
He shares with a bird that dips its beak into the same dish.
Sip, sip.

Cheers, says Mimo.
Chirp, says the bird.

Mimo finds a cucumber that curves upward at both ends.
It looks exactly like a smile.
He holds it under his chin.
Big cucumber smile.
Cheeeese.

A ladybug sits on the cucumber, riding it like a tiny bus.
All aboard, ladybug bus, says Mimo.
Next stop, Tomato Town.
The ladybug wiggles its feet.
That means yes.

He checks the pumpkins.
Round and bright, like orange moons resting on the ground.
He pats one.
Pat, pat.

Thank you for growing.
You are very round and very patient.

The pumpkin says nothing.
Pumpkins are quiet like that.
Mimo nods.
Quiet is good.
Quiet is cozy.

He sings a garden song in a voice that is barely above a whisper.
Grow, grow, little seeds.
Grow tall like friendly weeds.
Shine, shine, little sun.
Gardening is silly fun.

The vegetables do not talk.
They listen with their vegetable hearts.
That is funny, and Mimo smiles at his own joke.

Down the path there is a puddle, shiny as a mirror.
Mimo looks at his face.

Fish face.
Blub blub.
Bear face.
Grrr, oh wait, no scary things.
Bumblebee face.
Buzz-buzz-buzz.

The puddle ripples in little circles, like it is laughing.

A breeze comes through, gentle and warm, pushing Mimo's hat again.
He holds it with both paws.
Hold on, hat.
We are a team.

Whoooo, says the breeze.
Whoooo, says Mimo back.
The leaves rustle and clap.
Clap clap clap.
Bravo, breeze.

He finds the biggest carrot of all.
It pokes out of the soil like a tiny orange mountain.
Mimo says, ooooh.
He pats it.
Hello, big friend.
Are you ready?

He pulls a little.
A little more.
The carrot does not budge.

Mimo nods.
Okay.
You can wait.
Waiting is okay.

He visits the onions.
They make his eyes sting, so he puts on blue swim goggles, which is a ridiculous look on a rabbit but Mimo does not mind.

Hello, onions, he says.
You look like sleepy moons.
He hums to them.
Hum-hum.
The onions rest.
Mimo rests too, just for a moment, goggles still on, breathing in the smell of warm soil and green things.

Snack time.
He spreads a blanket and sets out carrot sticks, pea pods, cherry tomatoes, cucumber slices, and warm bread.
Water with lemon.
He arranges everything in rows, neat as garden rows.

He sits.
He takes a bite.
Crunch.

He shares a crumb with a bird, a pea with a mouse who peeks out from under a leaf and squeaks, and a smile with the sun.

Thank you, garden, says Mimo.
You are big and kind.

After snack he plays a game.
Find the Potato.

Where is the potato.
Is it here.
No.
Is it there.
No.
Is it under the leaf.
Peek-a-boo.
Potato.

He finds three.
One potato, two potato, three potato, yay.
He lines them up and they do a slow potato dance.
Plop, plop, plop.
Mimo claps for the potato show.

He sweeps the path.
Sweep, sweep.
He waters again.
Drip, drip.
He pats the soil.
Pat, pat.

He thanks the worms.
Thank you, worms, for wiggly work.
The worms wiggle back.
Wiggle, wiggle.

The day grows softer.
The sky turns peach and pink, the kind of pink that looks like the inside of a shell.

The garden yawns.
Yaaawn.
Mimo yawns too.
Yaaaawn.

He stretches his arms.
Left. Right.
He rolls his shoulders like a slow turtle.

He picks a small basket for dinner.
One carrot, one tomato, one cucumber, one lettuce leaf.

He sings a basket song.
One by one, into the basket you go.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, hello.

The basket swings a little as he walks.
Sway, sway.

The moon peeks out, pale and thin.
Hello, moon, says Mimo.
The stars are little sparkles.
Twinkle, twinkle.

Crickets begin.
Chirp-chirp-chirp.

Mimo puts away his tools.
He folds his blanket.
He sets his hat on a peg by the door, where it finally stops flopping.

Good job, hat.
You stayed very silly today.

He washes his paws.
Splish-splash.
Dries them on a soft towel.
Pat-pat.

He brushes his whiskers.
Brush, brush.

He puts on cozy pajamas with carrot buttons.
Button, button, button.
The buttons look like tiny carrots marching in a line, and he giggles at them because some things are just funny no matter how tired you are.

Before bed, Mimo says good night to the garden.
Good night, carrots.
Good night, tomatoes.
Good night, peas.
Good night, pumpkins.
Good night, cucumbers.
Good night, onions.
Good night, potatoes.
Good night, lettuce waves.
Good night, butterfly.
Good night, bird.
Good night, ladybug bus.
Good night, tiny worms.

Sleep tight, everyone.
Grow gentle and slow.

Mimo climbs into bed.
The pillow is soft.
The blanket is warm.
The room smells like clean earth and mint, the way a garden smells after you have been in it all day and it has gotten into everything.

He hugs a plush carrot toy.
Hee-hee.
He whispers, thank you for a funny day.

He listens.
The breeze says, whoooo.
The crickets say, chirp.
His own breath goes in and out, in and out, slow as lettuce waves.

Mimo closes his eyes.
He remembers the cucumber smile.
The potato dance.
The ladybug bus and Tomato Town.
His hat doing flop, flop.

He smiles a sleepy smile.
Tomorrow there will be more colors, more shapes, more gentle jokes.

Good night, Mimo.
Good night, big garden.
Good night, tiny seeds.

Grow slowly.
Rest softly.
Dream of sunshine.
Dream of rain drops.
Dream of carrots with funny hair.
Dream of peas that roll like little green giggles.
Dream of everything kind and cozy.

Sleep, sleep, sleep.

And in the moonlight, the vegetables listen to Mimo's quiet breathing.
They listen with their vegetable hearts.
The garden sighs a happy sigh.
Haaah.

The stars wink.
Wink, wink.
The night tucks Mimo in like a gentle blanket.

Mimo sleeps.
The garden sleeps.
All is well.

The Quiet Lessons in This Newborn Bedtime Story

This story is full of patience, gentleness, and small acts of gratitude, all woven into moments so simple they barely look like lessons. When Mimo pulls the biggest carrot and it does not come out, he simply nods and says, "You can wait. Waiting is okay," showing that not everything has to happen right now, a reassuring idea for a baby's last waking moments. His habit of thanking every vegetable and sharing snacks with the bird and the mouse models kindness as something easy and ordinary. And there is silliness everywhere, the flopping hat, the swim goggles, the tomato joke, which lets a parent's voice stay light and warm. Right before sleep, that lightness is exactly what helps a baby settle.

Tips for Reading This Story

Give Mimo a soft, slightly squeaky voice, and slow down even more during the repeated sounds like "wiggle, wiggle, wiggle" and "drip, drip, drip," letting each word land like a little drumbeat your baby can feel through your chest. During the long good night sequence near the end, try lowering your volume with each line, so that by "good night, tiny worms" you are barely whispering. If your baby is still fussing when you reach the potato dance, lightly bounce your knees on "plop, plop, plop" to give the rhythm a physical shape.

Frequently Asked Questions

What age is this story best for?
This story works well from birth through about four months. The sentences are short enough that even a days-old baby can settle into the pattern, and the repeated sounds like Mimo's "hum-hum-hummm" and the cricket chirps give very young ears something gentle to latch onto. Older newborns may start to perk up at the clapping peas or the sneeze, which adds a tiny bit of engagement without disrupting the calm.

Is this story available as audio?
Yes. You can press play at the top of the story to listen. The audio version works especially well for this one because the repeated sounds, like the drip-drip of the watering, the hop-hop-hop, and the long "whoooo" of the breeze, have a natural musical quality that a narrator can stretch and soften. It is a good option for middle of the night feeds when you want the rhythm but your eyes are too tired to read.

Why is there so much repetition in this story?
Repetition is the whole point for babies this young. Mimo's garden is structured around repeated sounds and phrases, like "pat, pat" and "sip, sip" and the long list of good nights at the end, because that steady rhythm mimics the predictable patterns that help a newborn's nervous system relax. Your baby is not following the plot. They are riding the cadence of your voice, and the repetition gives that ride a smooth, looping shape.

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Create Your Own Version

Sleepytale lets you build a story like Mimo's garden around your own baby's world. You can swap in your baby's name, change the setting from a garden to a beach or a starry meadow, add a favorite stuffed animal as the main character, or tuck in the pet name you whisper every night. In a few taps you will have a soft, slow story that feels like yours, one you can save for the late feed, the nap wind down, or the last cuddle of the evening.