Pigúiça's room looked like a hurricane of toys had passed through. There was a ball under the bed, a teddy bear on the chair, blocks scattered all over the floor, and a rubber bone hanging from the curtain. Nobody knew how it got there.
Outside, the pink sky was turning orange. The clouds were already yawning.
“Pigúiça,” said Fofuxo from the doorway. “It's time to tidy up.” “Oh, no!” she complained, flopping onto her back in the middle of the blocks. “There are too many toys! I'll never finish!”
Fofuxo looked at the room, then at her, and smiled sideways. “What if it wasn't tidying up? What if it was saying good night?” Pigúiça raised one ear. “Saying good night?”
“Of course. Toys get tired too. They played with you all day long. Now they need to go to their own beds.”
Fofuxo picked up the ball and lifted it like he was carrying treasure. “Good night, Ball. You rolled a lot today.” And he set it in the toy chest, very gently.
Pigúiça laughed. She picked up the teddy bear. “Good night, Teddy. You were my guest at the tea party.” And she laid him in the chest, with his head resting on a tiny cushion.
They went one by one. The blocks were stacked in a row, sleeping close together. The picture book went on the shelf, standing up, next to its neighbor. Only the rubber bone was left, way up on the curtain.
“I'll get it,” said Fofuxo. He stretched his neck, opened his mouth, and pulled the bone down with his teeth. It was an enormous bone, longer than Pigúiça. He carried it to the chest with the steps of someone carrying something very important. “Good night, Bone,” said Fofuxo, even more softly. “You went on a lot of adventures today.” And together they closed the lid.
The room was quiet. The floor appeared, nice and clean. The window let in a piece of golden light, which settled on the rug like a cat.
Pigúiça looked around. She liked what she saw. Everything was in its place. Tomorrow, when she woke up, she would know exactly where to find each friend. “A calm room is lovely,” she murmured. “And a calm room helps you sleep,” said Fofuxo.
Pigúiça climbed into bed. Her eyes felt heavy. Down below, the chest seemed to breathe slowly, full of dreaming toys.
“Good night, room,” she said, already almost asleep. “Good night, everything.” And she slept, with a light heart and a peaceful room.
