Insomnia by Kathy Kenney-Marshall

I cannot get to sleep tonight.
I toss and turn and flop.
I try to count some fluffy sheep
while o’er a fence they hop.
I try to think of pleasant dreams
of places really cool.
I don’t know why I cannot sleep—
I slept just fine at school.

I Saw You by Anonymous

I saw you in the ocean,
I saw you in the sea,
I saw you in the bathtub.
Oops! Pardon me.

How to Delay Your Bedtime by Bruce Lansky

Refuse to turn off the TV.
Say, "All my friends watch this show."

Shout, "No fair!" when you're told to go to bed.
Then ask, "Why can't I stay up till' ten
like all my friends?"

When Dad says, "If all your friends
jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge,
would you jump, too?"
sneer, "Yes!"

Whine, "I'm too tired to walk upstairs to bed."
Make Dad carry you up the stairs.

Pout, "I'm too tired to brush my teeth."
Wait till' Dad squeezes the toothpaste
onto your brush and starts brushing
your teeth for you.
Then groan, "Ouch, you're hurting me."

When Mom comes in to say good night
and asks you to pick up your clothes,
yawn, "I'm too tired to pick up my clothes."
Watch while Mom picks them up for you.

Beg, "I need a bedtime story."
When Mom finishes the story,
ask, "And then what happened?"

Tell her, "That story got me excited.
Now I need a backrub to make me sleepy."
When Mom starts rubbing, give directions:
"Rub a little higher.
No, a little to the left.
No, more to the middle."
When Mom stops rubbing,
grumble, "I was just starting to feel sleepy—
don't stop now."

When Mom says, "For the last time, good night!"
whine, "I'm thirsty.
Can I have a glass of water?"
When Mom asks you to promise
you won't wet the bed,
say, "I promise"—but cross your fingers.

Start crying.
When Dad comes to comfort you,
sob, "There's a monster under my bed."
When he turns on the lights,
you'll see it's only your shoes, socks, crayons,
and the toy gun you got last Christmas,
but only played with once because you lost it.
Tell him, "Leave the door open
so I can see the hall light!"
When he opens the door,
plead, "Open it wider!"

When Dad leaves,
get the toy from under your bed
and play with it in the light
shining through your doorway.

How I Dress for Bed by Bruce Lansky

When winter breezes chill the air,
I sleep in my long underwear.
And if there isn’t any heat,
I keep my stockings on my feet.
I climb into my freezing bed
with fuzzy earmuffs on my head.
The reason it’s so cold inside:
Mom opens all the windows wide.

It Can't Be Time to Take a Bath by A. Maria Plover

It can't be time to take a bath.
I took one just last week.
I'm sure the spots you think are grime
are freckles on my cheek.

I'm just as clean as clean can be.
You won't find any dirt.
I rubbed my mouth clean with my hands,
then wiped them on my shirt.

My feet were muddy yesterday,
but that's not longer true.
I walked home barefoot in the rain,
so now they're spotless, too.

There was some gunk behind my ears—
a funny shade of gray.
Don't worry, though, 'cause it's all gone.
The cat licked it away.

And so you see, there is no need
to point me toward the tub.
It's just a waste of water.
I've got nothing left to scrub!

Don’t Suck Your Thumb by Bruce Lansky

“Don’t suck your thumb,”
my mother said.
I answered, “Why?”
and scratched my head.
She said, “It’s dumb!
Now go to bed.”
That night I sucked
my toe instead.

Diddle, Diddle Dumpling by Mark Benthall

Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his blue jeans on.
The poor little guy is out of luck.
He’s still in his pants ’cause his zipper’s stuck!