Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Field Trip

Episode Date: September 26, 2022

Our story tonight is called Field Trip and it’s a story about a rite of passage for lots of second graders and the people in their lives who get to go along for the ride. It’s also about a bus waiting by the playground, learning to be a better listener, and a form stuck to the front of the fridge. Order the book now! Get our ad-free and bonus episodes!Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I read and write all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We are about to celebrate the two-year anniversary of my book, also called Nothing Much Happens. It is beautifully illustrated. It has a map in the front so you can see where all your favorite

locations in the village of nothing much are. It has recipes, it has self-care rituals, 16 stories you've never heard before, and an index of coziness so you can look stories up by things like socks, tea, or cats. It's been published in dozens of countries around the world, and it's available in print and as an audiobook. Since I was a child, it has been the dream of my life to write and publish a book. My wildest dreams came true, and now I dream even wilder. Find my book at your favorite bookshop, library, or get an autographed copy at nothingmuchappens.com. Now, I have a story to tell you.

It's simple, and not much happens in it, and that's the idea. The story is a soft place to rest your mind, a simple and pleasant way to occupy it so that it doesn't wander away and keep you up. All you need to do is listen in a relaxed way. Just follow along with the sound of my voice and the simple details of the story and very soon you'll be deeply asleep. I'll tell the story twice,

and I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake in the middle of the night, you could listen again, or just think your way back through any part of the story that you can remember. We're training your brain to settle and rest and the more you do this, the better your sleep will get. Okay, snuggle down campers. Turn off your light. Get as comfortable as you can. Take a moment just to feel how good it is to be in bed,

to be about to sleep. If you tend to clench your jaw, place the tip of your tongue at the place where your upper teeth meet the gums on the inside. This will help keep it relaxed. Now take a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. Let's do that again. Breathe in and out. Good. Our story tonight is called Field Trip, and it's a story about a rite of passage for lots of second graders and the people in their lives who get to go along for the ride.

It's also about a bus waiting by the playground, learning to be a better listener, and a form stuck to the front of the fridge. Field trip. I'd gone on it myself when I was his age. In fact, I think we'd gone every autumn for the first few years of elementary school. It was a rite of passage and something to look forward to when we went back to class in September. And now I, because I was still proudly wearing the title of Cool Aunt,

had been asked to go along as chaperone. My nephew was just starting second grade, and he was very excited about school this year. First grade had, of course, been a year of firsts, but now he was an old hand at everything. He knew Fridays were pizza days in the cafeteria. He had a library card and could check out six books at a time from the school library. He knew where to line up for his bus at the end of the day. And he had a favorite subject, though it changed daily. Yesterday he had been all about reading. Today it was science.

I lived just around the corner from my nephews and often they walked down to my place when the school bus dropped them off for a snack after school especially if their dads weren't home I kept their favorite treats in my cupboard, and they liked to sprawl on my sofa and watch a bit of TV or play a few video games. I'd learned from experience,

but also because my brother had clued me into it, that the best way to get the boys talking wasn't to ask questions. In fact, it was to not ask questions. If I greeted them with, how was your day? What did you learn? Are you hungry? I got back one-word answers.

Fine. And stuff. And always. Instead, I set snacks out on the counter and always. Instead, I set snacks out on the counter, let them wander the house for a bit, and often did my own thing, folded laundry on the sofa,

or went through the mail in the kitchen. And often, after a little quiet time, one or both of them would just start to open up, and I'd hear how their days really were. The behind-the-scenes stories of elementary and middle school. The best kind of listening is when you listen to truly hear, to really understand, not just waiting for your turn to talk. And the boys had taught me to be a very good listener. And last week, when they were sitting at the kitchen counter,

eating peanut butter sandwiches that I made the way they liked with potato chips in the middle because of the crunch, obviously. My youngest nephew told me about his field trip. They were going to the pumpkin patch. They'd each get to pick out a pumpkin and watch how the cider was made in a big press. And then they'd get donuts and cider for a snack. And they'd be gone all afternoon on the bus.

And by the time they got back to school, they would have missed the last classes of the day and could go straight home. That last bit had seemed to feature prominently in his excitement. I listened with my elbows on the counter, my chin propped in my hands, and I think I felt just as excited as he was. He set his sandwich down and dug around in his book bag

for a few moments and pulled out a crumpled form now smudged with peanut butter and handed it to me I chuckled as I attempted to flatten it out on the counter. I started to say that I couldn't sign a permission slip for him, to just take it home to Dad's and they'll take care of it." But then I saw it was actually a form for a chaperone for the trip. "'You want me to come with you?' I asked, basking in my cool aunt status.

Well, I know you like pumpkins, he said seriously and picked up his sandwich again. I laughed. He wasn't wrong. I was the one at the candle shop on the first day of September, ready to fill a basket with pumpkin pie-scented candles. And as soon as it was even moderately acceptable to decorate for autumn.

I had a dozen orange and white pumpkins lining my front step. Right now, hanging from the hook beside the sink, were my fall-themed tea towels. And I may have already bought a Halloween costume for my cat. I felt very seen. I'd stuck the form to my fridge, saying that I'd talk to their dads about it first. Really, I just wanted to brag. And when they'd gone home an hour or so later, I called my brother.

I got invited to the field trip. I did. He wants me to go, I said with very little dignity. He sighed into the phone and I could hear him laughing in that silent chuckle he had.

It must be a very exciting day for you. It is, I confirmed. Well, don't let him pick out too big a pumpkin. He has to carry it back on the bus, you know. I rolled my eyes, knowing that I would drive him home myself, with it strapped to the roof if need be. Sure, sure, I said, and hung up. Then I filled out the form and sent it in. Now, it was the day of, and I had my favorite pumpkin sweater on.

Something like a tacky Christmas sweater, but better, because it was pumpkin. I also tied an orange scarf in my hair, and charged my phone up for all the selfies we were going to take. I drove up to his school just after his lunch hour and found him and his classmates out on the playground. They were running in some game they had no doubt just made up, and instantaneously all knew the rules too. I remembered suddenly a section of the playground at my own elementary school, which held a small stand of trees. They were spaced out like a diamond, and we played tag around them. Touching a tree made you safe and we'd dart from one to another

trying to get a hand on the bark before we got tagged. It had seemed at the time that they were spread out over a large chunk of land, like the bases on a baseball diamond. But looking back, I'm sure they were only a few paces apart. I was still smiling at the memory and watching my nephew play

when the bus pulled up beside the fence. We were headed out on a field trip field trip I'd gone on it myself when I was his age in fact I think we'd gone every autumn for the first few years of elementary

school. It was a rite of passage and something to look forward to when we went back to class in September. And now I, because I was still proudly wearing the title of Cool Ant, had been asked to go along as chaperone. My nephew was just starting second grade, and he was pretty excited about school this year. First grade had, of course, been a year of firsts, but now he was an old hand He knew Fridays were pizza days in the cafeteria. He had a library card and could check out six books at a time from the school library. He knew where to line up for his bus at the end of the day and he had a favorite subject though it changed daily

yesterday he had been all about reading. Today it was science. I lived just around the corner from my nephews, and often they walked down to my place when the school bus dropped them off for a snack after school, especially if their dads weren't home. I kept their favorite treats in my cupboard, and they liked to sprawl on my sofa and watch

a bit of TV or play a few video games. I'd learned from experience, but also because my brother had clued me into it. But the best way to get the boys talking wasn't to ask questions. In fact, it was to not ask questions. If I greeted them with, How was your day? What did you learn? Are you hungry? I got back one-word answers.

Fine. Stuff. And always. Instead, I set snacks out on the sofa. Or went through mail in the kitchen. And often, after a little quiet time, one or both of them would start to open up, and I'd hear how their days really were.

The behind-the-scenes stories of elementary and middle school. The best kind of listening is when you listen to truly hear, to really understand, not just waiting for your turn to talk. When the boys had taught me to be a very good listener. And last week, when they were sitting at the kitchen counter, eating peanut butter sandwiches that I'd made just the way they liked,

with potato chips in the middle, because of the crunch, obviously. My youngest nephew told me about his field trip. They were going to the pumpkin patch. They'd each get to pick out a pumpkin and watch how the cider was made in a big press. And they'd get donuts and cider for a snack, and they'd be gone all afternoon on the bus. And by the time they got back to school, they would have missed the last classes of the day and could go straight home.

That last bit had seemed to feature prominently in his excitement. I listened with my elbows on the counter, my chin propped in my hands, and I think I felt just as excited as he was. He set his sandwich dug around in his book bag for a few moments and pulled out a crumpled form, now smudged with peanut butter, and handed it to me. I chuckled as I attempted to flatten it out on the counter. I started to say that I couldn't sign a permission slip for him to just take it home to Dad's, and they'll take care of it.

But then I saw it was actually a form for a chaperone for the trip. You want me to come with you? I asked, basking in my cool aunt status. Well, I know you like pumpkins, he said seriously, and picked up his sandwich again. I laughed. He wasn't wrong. I was the one at the candle shop on the first day of September, ready to fill a basket with pumpkin pie-scented candles. And as soon as it was even moderately acceptable to decorate for autumn, I had a dozen orange and white pumpkins lining my front steps.

Right now, hanging from the hook beside the sink were my fall-themed tea towels. And I may have already bought a Halloween costume for my cat. I felt very seen. I'd stuck the form to my fridge, saying that I'd talked to their dads about it first. Really, I just wanted to brag. And when they'd gone home an hour or so later, I called my brother. I got invited to the field trip. I did. He wants me to go, I said with very little dignity. He sighed into the phone, and then I could hear him laughing in that silent chuckle he had.

It must be a very exciting day for you. It is, I confirmed. Well, don't let him pick out too big a pumpkin. He has to carry it back on the bus, you know. I rolled my eyes, knowing that I would drive him home myself, with it strapped to the roof, if need be. Sure, sure, I said, and hung up. Then I filled out the form and sent it in. Now it was the day of, and I had my favorite pumpkin sweater on.

Something like a tacky Christmas sweater, but better, because it was pumpkin. I'd also tied an orange scarf in my hair and charged my phone up for all the selfies we were going to take. I drove up to his school just after his lunch hour and found him and his classmates out on the playground. They were running in some game they had, no doubt, just made up and instantaneously all knew the rules to. I remembered, suddenly, a section of the playground at my own elementary school, which held a small stand of trees.

They were spaced out like a diamond, and we played tag around them. Touching a tree made you safe, and we'd dart from one to another, trying to get a hand on the bark before we got tagged. It had seemed at the time that they were spread out over a large chunk of land, like the bases on a baseball diamond. But looking back, I'm sure they were only a few paces apart. I was still smiling at the memory and watching my nephew play

when the bus pulled up beside the fence, we were headed out on a field trip. Sweet dreams.