Woolly was the fluffiest, puffiest, softest sheep on Clover Hill. And every night, while all the other sheep drifted off to sleep, Woolly lay wide awake.
She tried counting clouds. One fluffy cloud... two fluffy clouds... three fluffy clouds. Still awake.
She tried singing herself a lullaby. La la la... la la... nope. Still awake.
She tried sleeping on her left side. Then her right side. Then on her back, which is quite difficult when you are a very round, very fluffy sheep.
Finally, Woolly walked to the top of Clover Hill and looked up at the sky. A million stars twinkled down at her.
The gentle breeze rustled through the grass. An owl hooted softly in the distance. The moon smiled its big, quiet smile.
Woolly took a very slow, very deep breath.
And then another.
Her eyes grew heavy. Her fluffy body relaxed.
And just like that — with the stars watching over her and the soft wind singing — Woolly fell fast asleep.
Just like you will, right now.
Goodnight.