Every single night, the same little battle happened in the nest.
"Bedtime, Chi Chi," Mama Bird would say, fluffing up the leafy blanket.
"But I'm not even a LITTLE bit tired!" Chi Chi would announce, hopping in place to prove it. "See? Look how awake I am!"
"Five more minutes," Papa Bird would sigh, and Chi Chi would cheer as if she'd won a great prize.
Five minutes turned into ten. Ten turned into "just one more look at the fireflies." One more look turned into a whole game of hide-and-seek in the dark with the crickets, who, it must be said, were VERY good at hiding.
"Chi Chi!" Mama Bird called softly into the night. "Bed. Now."
"Coming!" Chi Chi called back — and then promptly did not come, because she had spotted a shooting star and simply HAD to make a wish on it.
By the time she finally tucked herself under her wing, the moon was halfway across the sky, and Mama and Papa were both fast asleep, much too tired themselves to argue anymore.
The very next morning was the Great Forest Games — races, jumping contests, a nest-building competition, and best of all, a giant picnic with mango juice and honeycomb crackers. All of Chi Chi's friends would be there: Pip the Duckling, Tuku the Tortoise, everyone!
"WAKE UP, CHI CHI!" Papa Bird called cheerfully. "Big day!"
"Mmmmnnnfff," said Chi Chi, which is bird-language for "five more minutes," and which nobody in this family seems to ever actually mean.
She stumbled out of the nest, wings drooping, eyes at half-mast, and yawned so wide that a passing bumblebee nearly flew straight into her beak.
"You look a bit drowsy, little feather," Mama Bird said gently. "Did you sleep enough last night?"
"I'm FINE," Chi Chi insisted, in a voice that was somehow both a yawn and a shout at the same time. "Let's GO!"
At the Forest Games, things started off... wobbly. In the flying race, Chi Chi flapped three times, drifted sideways into a bush, and landed upside down in a pile of leaves.
"I meant to do that," she mumbled, leaves stuck to her feathers.
In the jumping contest, she jumped once, yawned mid-air, and simply forgot to flap — landing with a soft, undignified FLOOMPH right in the mud.
"Chi Chi, are you okay?" Pip asked, waddling over with concern.
"I'm GREAT," Chi Chi snapped, more sharply than she meant to. "Why does everyone keep ASKING me that?"
Pip's feathers drooped a little at her tone, and Chi Chi immediately felt a prickle of guilt she was much too tired to properly deal with.
By the picnic, Chi Chi was undeniably, unmistakably, thoroughly cranky. She grumbled that the mango juice was "too juicy." She complained the honeycomb crackers were "too crunchy." When Tuku made his favorite silly joke about slow racing turtles, Chi Chi didn't even smile — she just put her head down on the picnic blanket and, in front of absolutely everyone...
...fell fast asleep. Face-first. In the honeycomb crackers.
There was a long, awkward silence. Then Pip started to giggle. Then Tuku chuckled his slow, rumbly chuckle. Soon the whole picnic was laughing — kindly, not meanly — while Chi Chi snored softly with a cracker stuck to her cheek.
Mama Bird gently woke her and carried her home early, missing the rest of the races, the games, and — worst of all — the sack race, which Chi Chi had been looking forward to for weeks.
"I missed everything," Chi Chi mumbled miserably that evening, tucked into the nest far too early for her liking. "The sack race, the songs, all of it."
"You didn't miss it because the day was too short," Papa Bird said softly. "You missed it because last night was."
"Every single night, you fight your bedtime," Mama Bird added, smoothing her feathers. "And every single day, you're too drowsy and too cranky to actually enjoy any of the fun you stayed up chasing."
Chi Chi thought about the sideways flying, the mud-floomph, snapping at Pip, and falling asleep in the crackers, and her cheeks went warm with embarrassment. "I thought bedtime was stealing my fun," she admitted quietly. "But it was actually... giving me the fun. Wasn't it?"
"Every bit of it," said Mama Bird, smiling.
That night, when Mama said "Bedtime, Chi Chi," something surprising happened.
"Okay!" Chi Chi said immediately, snuggling right down without a single complaint.
Papa Bird blinked in surprise. "No 'five more minutes'?"
"Nope," said Chi Chi, already half asleep. "Tomorrow, I want ALL my fun. Not just the wobbly, cranky, floomph-in-the-mud kind."
And with that, she closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long while, drifted off exactly on time — dreaming of sack races she couldn't wait to actually win.