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Not SleepyHamato Yoshi's dark, beady eyes flitted downward to look at the clock. Seven o'clock p.m. Bedtime. The worst part of the day. He groaned involuntarily and turned toward the living room, where each of his four sons sat absorbed in a different task.
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Leonardo sat in front of the TV, his blue eyes wide with rapture as Space Heroes played onscreen.
Raphael was sitting on the floor, rolling an old toy monster truck across a homemade ramp.
Michelangelo was flipping through a comic book, unable to read but enjoying the bright, colorful pictures.
Donatello sat on the couch, reading a water-stained book entitled, "There's a Wocket in my Pocket!"
Yoshi sighed. This was going to be difficult.
He decided to begin with the most stubborn of all his sons. "Raphael, it is time for bed."
Raphael's green eyes hardened. His three-year-old sons did not understand much, but "bed" was a word they had come to dread. "No! Not sleepy."
Yoshi leaned in close to whisper to his son. "You may not be sleepy, but do