Baby Otter’s River Dreams

In a cozy den by the gentle river, Baby Otter yawned a tiny yawn. The sun was painting the sky soft pink and orange, just like Mama’s warm fur.

“Time for sleep, little one,” whispered Mama Otter, wrapping Baby Otter in the softest water lily petals.

But Baby Otter’s eyes were still bright and curious. “Mama, what do rivers dream about?”

Mama Otter smiled and began to rock Baby Otter gently, like the river rocks the lily pads. “Close your eyes, sweet pup, and I’ll tell you.”

“Rivers dream of raindrops,” Mama whispered. “Tiny silver raindrops that go pitter-patter, pitter-patter on the water. Can you hear them?”

Baby Otter listened carefully. The river made soft, sleepy sounds: splash-whisper, splash-whisper.

“Rivers dream of fish swimming in circles,” Mama continued, making gentle swirling motions with her paw. “Round and round, round and round, like a lullaby dance.”

Baby Otter’s eyelids began to feel heavy, like flower petals closing for the night.

“Rivers dream of the moon,” Mama said softly. “See how it makes sparkly paths on the water? The moon smiles down and says ‘Sweet dreams, little river. Sweet dreams, little otter.'”

Baby Otter snuggled deeper into Mama’s warm belly. The river’s gentle song grew quieter: hush-hush, hush-hush.

“What else, Mama?” Baby Otter asked with a sleepy mumble.

“Rivers dream of baby otters,” Mama whispered, kissing the top of Baby Otter’s head. “They dream of little paws paddling, little noses sniffing water flowers, and little hearts full of love.”

The river seemed to sing a lullaby now: rest-now, rest-now, dream-sweet, dream-sweet.

Baby Otter’s breathing became slow and peaceful. “Mama, am I in the river’s dream?”

“Yes, my precious pup,” Mama said, her voice as soft as morning mist. “And the river is in your dreams too. You’re both dreaming of tomorrow’s sunshine, tomorrow’s splashes, and tomorrow’s cuddles.”

Baby Otter smiled a sleepy smile. The river whispered its gentlest song: sleep-tight, sleep-tight, love-you, love-you.

As Baby Otter drifted off to dreamland, the river carried away all the day’s excitement and worries. In sleep, Baby Otter dreamed of floating on soft clouds, playing with friendly fish, and always, always feeling safe in Mama’s love.

The moon watched over them both, and the river sang its ancient lullaby until morning came again.

Sleep tight, little one. The river dreams of you too.