Kids Chirstmas Bedtime Story - Mistletoe The Reindeer

Good evening,

It's Gina here.

Tonight we are going to meet a tiny reindeer called Mistletoe,

So get comfortable in your bed and we'll begin.

Far,

Far to the north,

Where the nights are long and the snow glows blue under the moonlight,

Lived a very small reindeer named Mistletoe.

She was the smallest of Santa's young reindeer,

Her nose a soft rosy pink,

Her hooves dainty,

To her eyes bright and curious.

One evening,

The very first snowfall of winter drifted down silently in the quiet evening.

Young reindeer gathered in the practice meadow,

Hopping and gliding as the elders cheered them on.

A light wind swirled,

Tiny bells chimed in the distance,

Everything felt full of magic.

Mistletoe stepped forward,

She bent her knees,

Gathered her courage and leapt,

But her little hooves landed right back in the snow with a buck.

Not even a flutter,

Not a wobble,

Not a single whisper of lift.

The other reindeer glided a few feet at a time,

Wobbly and giddy,

But gliding all the same.

Mistletoe's cheeks warmed as she felt a little disappointed that she wasn't able to fly yet.

She looked down at the snow,

Wishing she could spring and glide over it like the others.

Santa who had been watching with kind eyes,

Walked over and knelt beside her.

Everyone finds their lift in their own time,

He said softly,

You're exactly where you'll need to be,

Mistletoe nodded,

But her heart still thudded with doubt.

That night,

She wandered to a quiet hill overlooking the glowing village.

The moon hung low and silver,

Lighting the world in a peaceful hush.

I just want to fly,

Even a little,

She whispered.

Above her,

Snowflakes drifted slowly in the still night air,

Each one sparkling,

As if encouraging her to try again tomorrow.

The next night,

Mistletoe wandered further from the village than usual.

The snow beneath her hooves was soft and powdery.

Tall pines stood still and silent,

Their branches weighted with winter.

She walked until she reached the oldest pine of all,

Its trunk wide,

Its branches soft,

Sweeping like welcoming arms.

A gentle voice floated down from above,

Why the long face,

Little reindeer?

Mistletoe looked up,

Perched on a sturdy branch sat a snowy owl with silver speckled feathers.

Her eyes were warm,

Glowing softly in the moonlight.

I'm Orla,

The owl said,

Bowing her feathery head,

And I know the look of someone who's trying very hard.

Mistletoe sighed.

I want to fly like the other young reindeer,

But I can't even lift my hooves off the ground.

Orla gave a patient hoot.

Flying begins not with the legs,

She said gently,

But with listening.

Listening,

Mistletoe asked,

To what?

To the wind,

Orla replied.

It carries every creature that takes to the sky,

Owl,

Moth or reindeer.

When you learn to feel it,

Trust it and move with it,

It will help you lift.

Mistletoe closed her eyes,

Unsure at first,

But then she felt it,

A soft breeze brushing her fur,

The faintest swirl of air around her ears,

A gentle push at her side,

Almost like encouragement.

She opened her eyes,

Orla nodded,

There,

You felt it.

Mistletoe tried a small hop,

Just a tiny one,

And though she didn't fly,

She landed with a lightness she hadn't felt before.

Tomorrow,

Orla said,

Fluffing her feathers,

Listen again,

The wind will be waiting.

Mistletoe walked home with a warm glow blooming in her chest.

The next evening,

As Mistletoe practised her hops near the frozen pond,

A blur of white zipped past her.

A snow hare popped out of adrift,

Shaking snow from his long ears.

Hello,

He chirped,

I'm Hopper,

I saw those hops,

Very good hops indeed.

Mistletoe blushed,

They weren't that good.

Hopper gasped,

Not good,

They were excellent,

And anyway,

He added with a grin,

No one becomes good by comparing themselves to somebody else.

Mistletoe sat quietly for a moment,

Realising that she had been watching the other reindeer far too much,

And watching herself far too little.

Hopper bounced in a circle,

Practise with me,

We'll hop together.

They hopped across the snow,

Sometimes high,

Sometimes low,

And sometimes they tumbled into giggles.

With each hop,

Mistletoe felt her legs growing stronger,

But more importantly,

She felt lighter inside.

When Hopper finally flopped onto his back,

Breathing little frosty clouds into the air,

He said,

See,

You're better than you think.

Mistletoe made her highest hop yet,

Just a few inches higher than before,

But it made her heart flutter with pride.

Maybe,

Just maybe,

She was getting closer.

The whole North Pole buzzed with excitement.

It was time for Twinkling Trails Night,

When young reindeer showed their progress by making small glowing trails of snow in the sky.

Lanterns hung from every branch,

And the air shimmered with a quiet magic.

Mistletoe's stomach fluttered with nerves.

I'm not ready,

She whispered.

Orla perched on a nearby lantern hook.

You are readier than you believe,

She said.

Listen first,

Then leap.

Hopper jumped beside her.

And I'll cheer you on,

He whispered with a smile.

Mistletoe stepped into the glowing circle.

Soft bells jingled in the distance,

And snowflakes drifted lazily.

She closed her eyes,

Felt the wind on her fur,

Waited,

And leapt.

For a moment,

Just a moment,

She glided.

Her hooves left the ground.

A tiny glowing trail shimmered behind her like a ribbon in the moonlight.

She landed gently,

Breathless.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Mistletoe couldn't stop smiling.

She had glided,

Even if only a little,

She had truly glided.

Christmas Eve arrived with a sky full of stars.

Santa was preparing two sleighs.

The great one for the big journey,

And a small one for delivering tiny gifts to the woodland creatures.

We need a small,

Steady reindeer to guide the forest sleigh,

Santa announced.

All eyes turned to Mistletoe.

She gasped,

Me!

Santa nodded kindly.

You listen to the wind,

And I know that you can do it.

Mistletoe's legs trembled,

But not with fear this time,

With excitement.

The forest lay quiet as she stepped into the harness.

Owl feathers glimmered above her as Orla flew silently along the treetops.

Listen,

Orla whispered.

Mistletoe closed her eyes.

The wind brushed her fur,

Steady and soft.

She leapt,

And this time she glided longer than ever before between tall pines.

Through drifting snowflakes,

Past cozy boroughs where tiny animals peaked out,

Whispering sleepy thank yous,

The forest seemed to glow around her.

The final delivery was nearly done when a gentle gust nudged the sleigh off its path,

Just enough to push Mistletoe sideways.

Mistletoe's heart raced.

Then she remembered Orla's words.

Trust the wind.

Listen to the wind.

She took a deep breath and listened,

Felt the breeze lifting her,

Guiding her,

Holding her.

And she leapt,

Higher this time,

Smoother,

Braver.

Her hooves lifted from the snow.

Her body rose,

And suddenly,

Wonderfully,

She was flying,

Truly flying.

The woodland animals were amazed,

And Hopper cheered quietly from a snowbank.

Mistletoe landed with the gentlest thump and the biggest smile she had ever worn.

She had done it.

When she returned to the North Pole,

Lanterns flickered warmly,

And the village erupted in soft,

Joyful cheers.

Santa placed a shiny sleigh bell around her neck and chimed a delicate,

Magical note.

Orla perched beside her proudly,

And Hopper danced happy circles around her hooves.

From that night on,

Mistletoe practiced her gliding with joy instead of worry.

She even helped younger reindeer learn their very first hops,

Encouraging them just as Hopper and Orla had encouraged her.

And when bedtime came,

Mistletoe curled up in her cosy stable,

The northern lights drifting across the sky.

Before she went to sleep,

She said a few affirmations to herself.

If you are listening at home,

Feel free to join in with Mistletoe.

I trust myself to give new things a try.

I know that if I don't succeed at first,

It's okay,

I can learn at my own pace.

I will always find the encouragement I need.

And with that,

Mistletoe drifted into the deepest,

Warmest sleep,

Knowing that she had found her way.

If you enjoyed this adventure,

Feel free to join us again tomorrow night.

Until then,

Goodnight my friend.