The Superhero Who Made Friends with Night a personalized book with your child as the hero

By day, Jules knew every corner of the bedroom. The coat stand held a rust-coloured coat. The plant leaned towards the window. The blue quilt made a sea for Rabbit to sail across. But when Mum lowered the lamp at bedtime, the room seemed to put on somebody else's clothes. Something tall waited by the rug. Something with long fingers spread across the wall.

Jules sat on the bed and squeezed Rabbit. The soft ears tickled a cheek, but the tight feeling stayed. Surely a superhero would simply shut both eyes. Jules tried. The fingers seemed even longer behind closed eyelids. One eye opened. Then the other. The doorway was still full of warm light. Mum had not gone far.

“Mum?” It came out smaller than Jules intended. Mum came straight over and knelt beside the bed. “I know this is my room,” Jules whispered. “But it doesn't feel like my room.” Mum listened without laughing. “Those shapes look worrying to you. Shall we look together?” Jules nodded. Saying the worry aloud had made a little space around it.

On the low shelf lay a mustard cape from an afternoon game. Its two shoulder tabs came apart easily, and it stopped above the hips. Mum helped Jules put it on over the teal pyjamas. Nothing went round the neck. Then she handed over the small LED torch. “The Night-Light Hero,” Jules announced, very softly. Rabbit could be the sidekick. Mum could come too.

Jules stood still on the clear rug and pointed the torch at the tall shape, away from everybody's eyes. A circle of light landed on a sleeve. An ordinary rust-coloured sleeve! Below it hung the coat's other sleeve. Above it was the wooden peg. The shape had no head at all. “It's your coat,” Jules said. The voice sounded a little bigger now.

Mum lifted the empty sleeve, then let it drop. “It kept the rain off me today.” Jules pictured the coat waiting for a bus, getting dripped on by an umbrella. It was rather hard to feel frightened of a coat that had spent the afternoon being rained on. Jules smiled, but one corner still needed a look.

Near the window, the long fingers waited. Jules knelt on the rug and turned the torch towards the plant. The circle found a broad green leaf. Then another. Their ordinary soft shadows lay behind them. “Leaves,” Jules said, letting out a long breath. The leaves stayed leaves. Nothing had changed into something else; the light had helped Jules see what was already there.

“Why are the shadows so big?” Jules asked. Mum moved the torch a little closer to a leaf while Jules watched from beside her. Its shadow grew. Farther away, the shadow shrank. The leaf stayed the same size. Jules tried the torch once, slowly. “The light moves the shadow!” There were things to wonder about in this room, as well as things to worry about.

At a low table, they made a plan for bedtime. Jules drew three simple pictures: a little lamp, a puff of breath and Rabbit. Mum set the enclosed battery night light on the bedside table, where its glow felt gentle. Together they tried a comfortable breath in and a slow, easy breath out. There was no need to gulp air or keep it trapped inside.

“What if I feel scared again?” Jules asked. “You can use your plan, and you can always call me,” Mum said. They agreed to leave the door a little open. Mum would be nearby and come back to check. Jules took off the cape, hung it on the low hook and put the torch away. Capes were for awake games. Rabbit could stay for sleep.

That first night, Mum sat beside the bed while Jules settled. Next afternoon, Jules explored the leaf's shadow in daylight, stretched comfortably on the rug with Mum beside them. This time the game began with curiosity. The next evening, the plan was waiting. So were the coat, the plant and the small flutter under Jules's ribs. That was disappointing. Had yesterday's brave feeling gone missing? Jules almost reached for the torch again, then remembered: they already knew what those shapes were. This was the worry returning, not a new visitor.

“I feel wobbly,” Jules told Mum. “I'm going to try my plan.” Sitting back on the bed, Jules rested one hand on the tummy. A comfortable breath in. A gentle breath out. The flutter did not disappear straight away, but the shoulders softened. Jules felt Rabbit's familiar ear and watched the small pool of night-light glow. There was room in this bed for a worried feeling and a sleepy child.

Mum tucked the blue quilt around Jules and left the door ajar. When she came back as promised, Jules was lying comfortably with Rabbit. “Still here?” Jules murmured. “Nearby,” Mum answered. Jules smiled a sleepy little smile. Soon the room held a coat, a plant, a night light and the quiet breathing of a child asleep in their own bed.

In the morning, Jules's older sibling brought a paper medal shaped like a sun. It had no ribbon; Jules held it against the pyjamas. “For the Night-Light Hero!” Mum said, “You told me what frightened you. You looked carefully and used your plan.” Jules beamed. “And I can ask you again.” “Always.” Jules set down the medal and showed the older sibling the ordinary coat sleeve, explaining yesterday's discovery. Rabbit received a kiss. Even a superhero could have someone nearby.