Hickory Dickory Dock Bedtime Story

There's something about the steady tick of a clock that makes a room feel safe, especially when you're small and the blankets are pulled up to your chin. In this hickory dickory dock bedtime story, a tiny mouse named Tilly decides she's going to climb the tallest grandfather clock in the house, one bong at a time, even though the chimes make her ears flip inside out. It's silly, cozy, and just the right kind of brave for a wind-down read. If you'd like a version with your child's name or a different animal altogether, you can create your own inside Sleepytale.

Why Hickory Dickory Dock Stories Work So Well at Bedtime

The original nursery rhyme has survived centuries for a reason: it pairs rhythm with repetition, and repetition is the closest thing language has to a rocking chair. A hickory dickory dock story at bedtime gives kids a pattern they can predict, the mouse goes up, the clock strikes, the mouse comes down, and that predictability settles the nervous system the same way a familiar lullaby does. The ticking clock itself mirrors a heartbeat, steady and reliable.

There's also something reassuring about a tiny creature tackling something enormous. Kids spend most of their day surrounded by things that are bigger than they are, doorknobs at eye level, countertops they can't reach. Watching a small mouse conquer a tall clock tells them, without any lecture, that being little doesn't mean being stuck. It's a message that lands softly right before sleep, when the world feels its quietest and most manageable.

Tilly the Clock Mouse

4 min 17 sec

Tilly was the tiniest mouse in the whole living room.
Not the bravest, not the fastest. Just the most curious, which, if you think about it, is the thing that gets you into the most trouble anyway.

One Tuesday evening she noticed the grandfather clock in the corner, really noticed it, the way you suddenly see something you've walked past a hundred times. Its golden pendulum swung back and forth, catching the lamplight each time it passed center. There was a faint smell of old wood polish coming off the case, the kind that's a little sweet and a little dusty at once.

She had to climb it.

Up the carved wooden leg she went, claws clicking against oak. Halfway up she stopped, not because she was tired, but because she realized she had a cookie crumb stuck to her vest. She picked it off, ate it, and kept going.
The Roman numerals on the clock face stared down at her like a committee that hadn't decided whether to be impressed or annoyed.

She reached the top just as the minute hand kissed the twelve.
BONG!

The sound hit her whole body. Her ears flipped inside out like two pink umbrellas caught in a gust, and she squeaked, spun, and slid down the clock the way a firefighter takes a pole, landing squarely in a velvet slipper that smelled of peppermint.

The slipper sneezed.
It was not, in fact, a slipper. It was the family cat, curled into a fuzzy disguise.

"Sorry," Tilly whispered. She curtsied, which is hard to do when you're standing on a cat's ear, and zipped back up the clock before the second bong could catch her.

BONG!
Off she skittered, bouncing off a lampshade that spun her like a pizza in a chef's hands.

She started giggling somewhere between the squeak and the spin. Each chime sent her on a new loop, and she stopped trying to hold on and started leaning into it.

BONG!
Three. The cuckoo popped out wearing a polka-dot bow tie. He looked tired, like someone who'd been doing this job for forty years and had stopped caring about appearances, but he still offered Tilly a thimble of cocoa.

She slurped. Handed it back. "Thanks," she said. "Nice tie."
"It's clip-on," the cuckoo admitted, and disappeared.

BONG!
Four sent her parachuting with a doily she grabbed off the mantel. It billowed above her, surprisingly effective.

Five found her surfing the clock chain on a spoon. Six sprinkled her with cookie crumbs that had been living on the mantelpiece since December, and honestly nobody was going to claim them now.

Seven tickled her with the tassel from Grandpa's beret, which had been hanging on the clock's corner for reasons no one remembered. Eight launched her onto the family dog's tail. The tail wagged like a metronome that had been given too much coffee, and she held on with both paws.

Nine draped her in a strand of tinsel from a birthday party nobody could quite place.
Ten crowned her with a paper hat from a Christmas cracker.
Eleven wrapped her in the glow from the moon-shaped nightlight on the far wall, soft and silver.

Twelve.

It arrived like a brass band, every pipe in the clock vibrating at once. And this time Tilly stood on the very top with her feet planted, ears forward, crumb-free vest buttoned tight.

She didn't say anything. She just stood there and let the sound pass through her.

The clock, which had seen a lot of mice in its time but none quite like this one, rattled something loose from behind its face. A tiny silver bell, no bigger than a pea, rolled out and landed at Tilly's feet.

She tied it to her tail.

From that night on, every hour on the hour, Tilly rang her bell alongside the chimes. The furniture joined in, because old furniture will take any excuse to creak. Even the cat arranged his nap schedule around her announcements, which he would never admit.

The family stopped winding the clock so tightly. They liked the sound better with Tilly's bell threaded through it, one soft note running underneath all the brass ones.

And every night, when the house went quiet and the pendulum slowed to its deepest, gentlest swing, Tilly curled up inside the clock's warm center. The wood hummed around her. Her bell caught the last bit of moonlight coming through the curtains and held it, like a star too stubborn to set.

She slept. The clock ticked. And outside, the moon kept watch over all of it.

The Quiet Lessons in This Hickory Dickory Dock Bedtime Story

Tilly's climb is really about persistence wrapped in laughter. Each bong knocks her loose, and each time she scrambles back up without making a fuss about falling, which shows kids that setbacks don't have to feel heavy if you let yourself find the funny in them. The moment she stops fighting the chimes and starts leaning into the spins teaches a small lesson about flexibility, that sometimes the best way to handle something big and loud is to ride it instead of bracing against it. And the cuckoo handing over cocoa mid-chaos is a quiet reminder that help shows up in unexpected places when you're brave enough to keep going. These are the kinds of ideas that feel safe to absorb right before sleep, when a child's mind is open and softening toward rest.

Tips for Reading This Story

Give Tilly a quick, slightly breathless voice, the way a small creature would actually sound halfway up a clock leg. When the cuckoo appears, slow way down and drop your pitch; let him sound like a tired old stagehand who's been at this forever, especially on the line "It's clip-on." At each BONG, clap your hands or tap the bedside table once so your child can feel the rhythm building toward twelve. When Tilly finally stands still at the top and lets the sound pass through her, pause for a full breath before you read the next line. That silence is where the story lands.

Frequently Asked Questions

What age is this story best for?
This story works beautifully for kids ages 2 to 6. The counting structure from one bong to twelve gives toddlers a pattern to follow, while the humor of Tilly landing on the cat and the cuckoo's clip-on bow tie keeps older preschoolers engaged. The vocabulary is simple enough for the youngest listeners but playful enough that a five or six year old will want to retell it.

Is this story available as audio?
Yes! Press play at the top of the story to hear it read aloud. The audio version is especially fun here because the rhythm of the twelve bongs builds like a drumroll, and the quick back-and-forth between Tilly and the cuckoo comes alive with different character voices. It's a great option for nights when you want to lie in the dark together and just listen.

Why does the mouse climb the clock in hickory dickory dock?
The original nursery rhyme never explains why, which is part of its charm and exactly why retellings like this one are so fun. In Tilly's version, she climbs because she's curious, plain and simple. That's something kids understand instinctively, because they climb things for the same reason. The story gives the old rhyme a "why" that feels honest and gives Tilly a small victory at the top, which is more satisfying than just running back down again.

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Create Your Own Version

Sleepytale lets you reshape this cozy clock-climbing adventure into something that fits your child perfectly. Swap Tilly for a bunny, a kitten, or even your child's own name. Trade the grandfather clock for a kitchen timer or a tower of stacking blocks. Adjust the tone from silly to serene, and in a moment you'll have a personalized story about a small creature doing something brave, ready to read whenever bedtime needs a little extra calm.