Juno and the Yawning Train

Juno had a wooden train with a yellow engine and three little carriages, and every night before bed the train had one important job: to take all the passengers home.

The passengers were a rabbit, a button, a spoon and a very small sock. They lined up on the rug, which was the station, and Juno pushed the train along the floorboards, which were the tracks.

"Chuff, chuff, chuff," went the train. And then, because it was late, "Yaaawn."

"Trains don't yawn," said Juno.

"This one does," said Dad, from the chair.

The first station was the Bookshelf. The rabbit got off, because rabbits live in burrows, and the bottom shelf was the most burrow-like place in the room.

"Chuff, chuff, chuff," went the train. "Yaaawn."

The second station was the Window. The button got off, because buttons like to look at the moon, and tonight the moon was out and very round.

"Chuff, chuff, chuff," went the train. "Yaaawn."

Juno yawned too. She did not mean to. Yawns are catching, even from trains.

The third station was the Cup, which was upside down on the floor and made a very good house for a spoon. The spoon got off and went inside.

"Chuff, chuff, chuff," went the train, slower now. "Yaaaaawn."

That left the very small sock. The sock's home was all the way at the end of the tracks, by the bed, where its other sock was waiting and had been waiting all day. It was a long way for a yellow engine that could barely keep its lights on.

"You can do it," said Juno, in the voice Dad used when she was putting her own socks on.

"Chuff," said the train. It rolled past the slipper. "Chuff." It rolled past the lamp. It stopped.

Juno gave it a little push. "Chuff," she said for it, because the engine had gone quiet. "Chuff... chuff..." The train crept under the edge of the blanket that hung down from the bed, and there, in the warm dark, was the other sock.

The very small sock got off. The two socks curled up together, which is what socks do when nobody is wearing them.

Juno lay down on the rug next to the train. The engine's yellow paint looked soft in the lamplight. All the passengers were home. The rabbit was in its burrow. The button was watching the moon. The spoon was in its cup. The socks were together.

"Everybody's home," said Juno.

"Nearly everybody," said Dad, and he picked her up, train and all, and carried her the last bit of track to the station called Bed.

The train went on the shelf beside her pillow, with its little yellow face turned towards her.

"Chuff," whispered Juno, with her eyes already closed.

And the train, if trains can do such a thing, yawned one last long yawn, and went to sleep too.