A Free Calm Bedtime Story:
Kodi's First Big Jump

A Pouch of His Own

0:06

Somewhere under the big, blue sky, a small kangaroo was about to make a big jump.

Mum was sewing — snip, stitch, snip — turning Kodi's old baby blanket into a little patchwork pouch, just his size.

“You're old enough now to see the world,” she said. “One place at a time. In the morning a great bird will carry you across the sea — and when the sun comes up again, Great-Aunt Bindi will be there to bring you home.”

Kodi hopped in circles around her. “I am NOT nervous,” he said, in his loudest voice. (He was a little bit nervous. Loud voices are like that sometimes.)

“Boy kangaroos never grow their own pouch,” Mum said, tying the last knot. “So I made you one — to carry home a little something from every place you go.”

The Big Jump

1:00

Kodi took one enormous breath and one enormous leap — right onto the back of a great royal albatross gliding low over the red dirt.

Australia dropped away below him, smaller and smaller, until it was just a rusty smudge on a big, blue sea.

It was the farthest Kodi had ever been from home — all on his own now, with the whole wide sky to himself. Somewhere far ahead, across the water, Great-Aunt Bindi would be waiting.

Kodi held on tight. Kangaroos don't hop backward — not even mid-air, not even scared.

A Forest of Silver Ferns

1:39

New Zealand rose up to meet him, greener and quieter than anywhere he'd ever been.

Kodi tumbled off into a forest of silver ferns, each curled tight as a question mark, slowly uncurling in the fading light.

The Glowworm Forest

1:54

As the sun went down, the forest lit itself back up — hundreds of glowworms, blinking on one by one, like the sky had fallen into the trees.

Somewhere, a tūī bird sang a note that sounded half like a bell, half like a laugh.

Kodi had never been anywhere so beautiful — or so far from home.

Meeting Kiri the Kiwi

2:17

In the ferns, something small and round and feathery was snuffling along the ground, nose first.

“You're loud,” it said, not unkindly. “I'm Kiri. I'm a kiwi. Tonight's my first night finding my own dinner — no mum, no help.”

“I'm Kodi. Tonight's my first night away from my mum too.”

They looked at each other the way you look at someone who understands exactly one thing about you.

The Wrong Hop

2:49

The dark got darker. The quiet got quieter. Kodi's chest went tight and small.

“I am NOT scared,” he announced, in his loudest voice. (He was. Loud voices are like that sometimes.)

He bounded through the ferns, showing off his biggest jumps — CRASH, THUD, BOING — higher and louder with every hop.

Every grub, every beetle, every good-smelling snack Kiri had been tracking scattered and vanished into the dirt.

Kiri went very still. “That was my dinner,” she said. “All of it.”

The Same Moon

3:30

Kodi stopped jumping. The forest went silent — not the good, quiet from before, but an empty, sorry kind of silent.

Kodi put his paw on his pouch. Home was right there. Then he looked at Kiri. This forest was her home. And he'd just made it harder.

Above them, the moon slid out from behind a cloud, round and silver. It was, Kodi realized, the exact same moon shining over his mum right now too.

Mum's Lullaby

4:05

Kodi didn't feel very brave. So he did the next best thing — he hummed the song his mum sang him before he flew:

Hop, little joey, the day is done.
You are my moon and my morning sun.
Big hops, little hops, every hop counts.
Home is wherever your heart bounces.

Kiri's feathers settled, just a little. “Sing it again?” she asked.

So he did. This time, for her.

“What Do You Need?”

4:37

“I'm sorry I scared off your dinner,” Kodi said. “What do you need?”

Kiri thought about it. “I need the grubs to come out — quietly. My nose is good. I just need them where I can find them.”

The Gentlest Jump

4:55

So Kodi took one careful breath. Then he made one careful, quiet, enormous jump — not into the ferns, not through the ferns, but over them, landing beside an old mossy log with one soft thump. Just enough to stir the leaf litter. Not enough to scare it.

One grub wriggled out. Then another. Then beetles glimmered into the moonlight, right where Kiri's nose could find them.

Somehow, Kodi thought, it was the biggest jump he'd made all night — even though it was the gentlest.

Kiri's Gift

5:33

Kiri ate until she was round and happy, then reached under her wing and pulled out one soft, hair-like feather.

“For your pouch,” she said. “So you remember someone far away is glad you jumped all this way.”

Kodi tucked it in carefully. It was the first thing that had ever gone into his pouch from his travels.

Home Hops Along

5:55

When the sun came up, Great-Aunt Bindi was waiting at the shore. It was time to go.

“Same time next year?” said Kiri.

“Every year,” said Kodi.

Back home, Mum unrolled a small cloth map and drew one careful line, red as sunset, from Australia to New Zealand.

Kangaroos don't hop backward — but they do come home.

And home hopped along with him — right there, next to his heart.