Milo’s Invisible Tickle Monster
A funny bedtime story about pyjamas, giggles, wriggly knees, and a very sneaky invisible friend.
It was bedtime in Milo’s house.
Not nearly bedtime.
Not soon bedtime.
Proper bedtime.
Milo was meant to be putting on his pyjamas. Mum had laid them on the bed. They were blue with yellow moons and one very sleepy rocket.
“Pyjamas on, please,” said Mum.
Milo picked up the pyjama top.
Then he giggled.
Then he wriggled.
Then he flopped backwards onto the carpet like a jelly.
“Milo,” said Mum, trying not to smile. “What are you doing?”
“It wasn’t me,” said Milo.
Mum raised one eyebrow.
Mum looked under the bed.
She looked behind the curtains.
She looked inside Milo’s sock drawer.
“Hmm,” she said. “I can’t see an invisible tickle monster.”
“That’s because he is invisible,” said Milo. “And very sneaky.”
“What does he look like?”
Milo thought carefully.
“He has huge fluffy hands,” he said. “And tiny socks. And a very wobbly bottom.”
“A wobbly bottom?”
“The wobblest.”
Mum nodded. “That does sound serious.”
Milo tried again.
One arm went in.
Then the other arm went in.
Then his head got stuck.
“Mum,” said Milo from inside the pyjama top. “It’s dark in here.”
Mum helped pull it down.
“There. Pyjama top on.”
Milo smiled proudly.
Then he giggled again.
“He tickled my knees!”
“Did he?”
“Yes! The Invisible Tickle Monster tickled my knees!”
Milo’s knees bounced.
Boing, boing, boing.
At last, Milo got both pyjama legs on.
One foot came out of the right hole.
One foot came out of the left hole.
One teddy bear came out of nowhere and landed on Mum’s slipper.
“Right,” said Mum. “Bathroom.”
Milo padded into the bathroom.
Brush teeth time.
Mum put toothpaste on the brush. Milo opened his mouth.
“Ahhh.”
Brush-brush-brush.
Then Milo’s elbow gave a twitch.
Then the other elbow gave a twitch.
Then both elbows flapped like chicken wings.
“Milo!”
“It’s not me!” said Milo, with a mouth full of toothpaste foam. “It’s the Invisible Tickle Monster!”
“Where is he tickling now?”
“My elbows!”
“Your elbows?”
“My very important brushing elbows!”
Brush-brush-flap.
Brush-brush-flap.
Mum gently held the toothbrush steady.
“Tell your tickle monster that teeth brushing is not elbow time.”
Milo nodded.
Then he swallowed a giggle.
“Dear Invisible Tickle Monster,” he said, “please stop tickling my brushing elbows.”
There was a tiny pause.
Then Milo’s shoulders jiggled.
“He moved to my shoulders.”
Mum laughed. “Cheeky monster.”
After teeth, it was story time on the sofa.
Milo chose a book about a duck who did not want to wear trousers.
Mum sat down.
Milo sat down.
The book opened.
“Once there was a duck—”
Milo giggled.
“Milo.”
“Sorry.”
Mum began again.
“Once there was a duck who—”
Milo giggled louder.
“Milo.”
“It’s him!” said Milo. “The Invisible Tickle Monster is tickling my tummy!”
Milo rolled sideways on the sofa.
He kicked one foot in the air.
He made a noise like a squeaky gate.
Mum put the book down.
“Where is this monster now?”
Milo pointed to the sofa cushion.
“He is sitting there.”
Mum patted the cushion.
“I can’t feel anything.”
“He jumped away.”
“Where to?”
Milo looked around.
“On your head.”
Mum froze.
“On my head?”
Milo nodded. “He’s wearing a hat made of custard.”
Mum sat very still. “Well, I hope he doesn’t drip.”
Milo laughed so much he nearly slid off the sofa.
Dad came to the doorway.
“What’s going on in here?”
Milo sat up quickly.
“Nothing.”
Mum looked at him.
“The Invisible Tickle Monster,” said Milo.
Dad nodded as if this explained everything. “Ah. We had one of those when I was little.”
Milo’s eyes went wide. “You did?”
“Oh yes,” said Dad. “Mine tickled my ears whenever it was time to tidy up.”
“What happened to it?”
Dad lowered his voice. “It got sleepy.”
Milo looked interested. “Tickle monsters sleep?”
“Of course,” said Dad. “But only after a special bedtime hug, a big breath, and very quiet feet.”
Mum smiled. “Do you think your tickle monster might be getting sleepy?”
Milo listened.
His tummy did one tiny wiggle.
His toes did two tiny wiggles.
“I think he is still a little bit awake,” said Milo.
“Then we had better help him settle,” said Mum.
Upstairs they went.
Milo climbed into bed. Mum tucked the duvet around him. Dad tucked Teddy under one arm.
“Right,” said Dad. “Tickle Monster Hug.”
Milo wrapped his arms around Mum.
Then Dad.
Then Teddy.
Then he hugged a bit of empty air beside his pillow.
“That bit is for him,” whispered Milo.
“Good,” whispered Mum.
“Now a big breath,” said Dad.
They all breathed in.
Whoooo.
They all breathed out.
Fooooo.
Milo’s shoulders softened.
His toes stopped wriggling.
His tummy stopped jiggling.
“Now,” said Mum, “very quiet tickles.”
“What are quiet tickles?” asked Milo.
“They are tickles that feel like warm snuggles,” said Mum. “No wriggling required.”
Milo smiled.
“That’s what he’s doing now,” he whispered. “Quiet tickles.”
Mum kissed Milo’s forehead.
Dad kissed the top of Teddy’s head by mistake.
“That was Teddy,” said Milo sleepily.
“Sorry, Teddy,” said Dad.
Milo giggled once.
Just once.
A tiny bedtime giggle.
Then he whispered, “Goodnight, Invisible Tickle Monster.”
Mum turned off the big light. The room went soft and shadowy, with the moon pyjamas glowing faintly under the duvet.
From the doorway, Mum looked back at Milo.
He was still at last.
Mostly.
One toe gave a very small wiggle.
Mum smiled.
Perhaps the Invisible Tickle Monster was not really a monster at all.
Perhaps it was just Milo’s happy, wriggly, silly feeling, curling up beside him for the night.
And that was all right.
“Sleep tight,” whispered Mum.
Milo sighed a cosy sigh.
And somewhere under the duvet, the Invisible Tickle Monster went very, very still.