Go Safe With Ziggy
Ziggy's Sports Day
For nursery and primary school levels:
- ELC
- P1
Ziggy learns the importance of good driver behaviour
This Ziggy story is for everyone in the family, as it describes bad adult behaviour in the car on the way to Ziggy’s Sports Day, and the effect that can have on young children. It shows just how important it is for adults to model the right behaviours when they’re driving, as children can be influenced by what they see and hear in the car
You can read at your own pace using the arrows, or have it read to you (choose from English, Gaelic or Scots) by pressing ‘Play’.
Zab-a-ding-a-doo!
Ziggy’s Sports Day by Lynda Kennedy and Lynn Taylor
Lath a Spòrs Shiogaidh by Lynda Kennedy agus Lynn Taylor
Ziggy’s Gemmes Day by Lynda Kennedy and Lynn Taylor
Shout a big ‘Zab-a-Ding-a-Doo’ to Ziggy!
Ziggy’s all set for some sporty fun.
Why don’t you come too?
Èigh ‘Sab-a-Diong-a-Dù’ mòr ri Siogaidh!
Tha Ziggy deiseil airson beagan spòrs is geamannan.
Carson nach tig thu fhèin cuideachd?
Roar oot a muckle ‘Zab-a-Ding-a-Doo’ tae Ziggy!
Ziggy’s up for a wheen o sporty fun.
Hoo no come alang an aa?
Today is a very special day at Maggie’s school.
It’s Sports Day!
Maggie spots a car outside.
“Frankie’s here!”
“I’ll see you later,” mum says and gives them all a big kiss.
‘S e latha sònraichte a th’ ann ann an sgoil Magaidh an-diugh.
‘S e Latha Spòrs a th’ ann!
Chì Magaidh gu bheil càr air taobh a-muigh an taighe.
“Tha Frankie an seo!”
“Chì mi a-rithist sibh,” tha mamaidh ag ràdh agus tha i a’ toirt pòg mhòr dhaibh uile.
The day’s a richt special day at Maggie’s schuil.
It’s Gemmes Day!
Maggie skeks a motor ootby. “That’s Frankie!”
“See ye later,” says ma an gies them aa a muckle kiss.
Frankie’s mum is taking them to school this morning. She helps them into the car and makes sure they’re all strapped in safely.
“Everyone looking forward to Sports Day?” she asks as they set off.
“Yeeeeeessssssss!”
Tha mamaidh Frankie gan toirt dhan sgoil an-diugh. Tha i gan cuideachadh a-steach dhan chàr agus a’ dèanamh cinnteach gu bheil iad uile air an ceangal a-steach gu sàbhailte.
“A bhiel a h-uile duine a’ coimhead air adhart ris an Latha Spòrs?” tha i a’ faighneachd fhad ’s a tha iad a’ falbh.
“Thaaaaaaaaaa!!!”
Frankie’s ma is takkin them tae schuil this mornin. She sees them intae the motor an maks siccar they’re aa beltit in safe-like.
“Aabody luikin furrit tae Gemmes Day?” she speirs as they heid aff.
“Aaaayyyeee!!!!”
“I’ve never been to a Sports Day,” says Ziggy.
“Sports Day is the best fun ever,” says Maggie.
“Do you want to be my partner in the three-legged race, Ziggy?” asks Frankie.
“Cha robh mi riamh aig latha spòrs roimhe,” tha Siogaidh ag ràdh.
“Chan eil dad cho math ri Latha Spòrs,” tha Magaidh ag ràdh.
“A bheil thu ag iarraidh a bhith anns an rèis tri-chàsach còmhla rium?” Tha Frankie a fiaghneachd.
“Ah’ve ne’er been tae a Gemmes Day,” says Ziggy.
“Gemmes Day is the brawest fun aye,” says Maggie.
“D’ye want tae pal up for the thrie-leggit race?” speirs Frankie.
Ziggy has a think. “I don’t think I can,’ he says looking at his legs.
“I’ve only got two.”
“That’s all you need!” laughs Maggie.
Tha Siogaidh a’ beachdachadh air. “Chan eil mi a’ smaoineachadh gun urrainn dhomh,” tha e ag ràdh agus e a’ coimhead air a chasan.
“Chan eil agam ach a dhà.”
“Chan eil a dhìth ort ach a dhà!” tha Magaidh a’ gaireachdainn.
Ziggy thinks tae hissel. “Ah dinnae think Ah can,” he says, keekin at his shanks.
“Ah’ve got jist the twa.”
“Thon’s aa ye need!” lauchs Maggie.
The roads are very busy.
People are on their way to work and school.
They stop behind a blue car at the roundabout.
Frankie’s mum toots her horn.
Beeeeeeeep.
“Come on, come on!” she says.
“Hurry up!”
Tha na rathaidean gu math trang.
Tha daoine a’ dol dhan obair agus dhan sgoil.
Tha iad a’ stad air cùl càr gorm aig a’ chearcall-rathaid.
Tha màthair Frankie a’ bruthadh na dùdaich.
Bììììììììob.
“Trobhad, trobhad!” Tha i ag ràdh.
“Greas ort!”
The roads are gey stowed.
Fowk are gangin tae wark an schuil.
They stap ahint a blae motor at the roonaboot.
Frankie’s ma toots her horn. Beeeeeeeeeep.
“Mon, Mon!” she says.
“Get a shift on!”
Ziggy waves at the animals he sees on the way.
A little fluffy white dog.
A beautiful black cat.
And a wee birdie singing in a tree.
Tha Siogaidh a’ smèideadh air na beathaichean a chì e air an t-silghe.
Cù beag bàn ròmach.
Cat dubh àlainn.
Agus eun beag a’ ceilearadh ann an craobh.
Ziggy waves at the craturs he sees on the wey.
A fluffy wee white dug.
A bonnie black cat.
An a wee birdie chantin in a tree.
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Hang on, that’s not a bird singing – it’s Frankie’s mum’s phone.
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Ach fuirich mionaid, chan e eun a’ ceilearadh a tha sin – ‘s e fòn mamaidh Frankie a th’ ann.
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Haud on, yon’s no a bird chantin – it’s Frankie’s ma’s mobi.
Without thinking Frankie’s mum reaches to answer it.
“You can’t use your phone while you’re driving,’ Frankie reminds her.
“You’re right, Frankie,” she says.
“I should have put it away when I got in the car.”
Gun a bhith a’ smaoineachadh, tha mamaidh Frankie a’ dol ga fhreagairt.
“Chan fhaod thu am fòn agad a chleachdadh fhad ‘s a tha thu a’ dràibheadh,” tha Frankie a’ cur na cuimhne.
“Tha thu ceart, Frankie,” tha i ag ràdh.
“Bu chòir dhomh a bhith air a chur air falbh nuair a thàinig mi a-steach dhan chàr.”
Athoot a thocht, Frankie’s ma raxes owre tae answer it.
“Ye cannae yaise yer mobi while ye drive,” Frankie minds her.
“Ye’re richt, Frankie,” she says.
“Ah ocht tae hae pit it by the meenit Ah got in the motor.”
They drive past the park along the main road.
“I haven’t got all day!”,
she shouts at the lady crossing the road.
“Get out of the way!”
she shouts at the man on the bike.
Tha iad a’ dràibheadh seachad air a’ phàirc air a’ phrìomh rathad.
“Chan eil mi ag iarraidh a bhith an seo fad an latha!”
tha i ag èigheachd air a’ bhoireannach a tha a’ dol tarsaing an rathaid.
“A-mach às an rathad!”
tha i ag èigheachd air an fhear air a’ bhaidhc.
They drive by the park alang the main road.
“Ah’ve no got aa day!”
she skreighs at the wummin daunerin owre the road.
“Shift oot the wey!”
she skreighs at the fellae on the bike.
“Moooooooove!”
she shouts at the red car that’s waiting to turn the corner.
“Gluaaaaaaais!”
tha i ag èigheachd air a’ chàr dhearg a tha a’ feitheamh gus tionndadh.
“Mooooooooove!”
she skreighs at the reid motor waitin tae gang roon the corner.
Frankie’s mum finds a safe place to park and walks with them to the gate.
“I’ll see you all at Sports Day, later,” she says and waves them bye-bye.
Tha mamaidh Frankie a’ lorg àite pàircidh sàbhailte agus a’ coiseachd chun a’ gheata còmhla riutha.
“Chì mi sibh uile aig an Latha Spòrs nas fhaide air adhart,” tha i ag ràdh, agus i a’ smèideadh riutha.
Frankie’s ma fins a safe place tae park an dauners tae the schuil yett wi them.
“See youse aa at Gemmes Day, later,” she says an waves cheerio.
The first race of the day is the Egg and Spoon Race.
‘S e rèis Ùgh is Spàinean a’ chiad rèis den latha.
The first race o the day is the Egg an Spin Race.
Everyone’s lined up ready to go.
Ziggy looks at the egg on his spoon.
It doesn’t look like it can go very fast.
Maggie’s teacher, Mr Presley, blows his whistle and they’re off!
Well everybody that is, except Ziggy. He’s still waiting for his egg to move.
Tha a h-uile duine ann an loidhne agus deiseil airson tòiseachadh.
Tha Siogaidh a‘ coimhead air an ùgh air an spàin aige.
Chan eil e a’ smaoineachadh gun gluais e uamhasach luath.
Tha Mgr Presley, taidsear Magaidh, a’ sèideach na feadaige aige agus tha iad a’dèanamh às!
Uill, tha a h-uile duine ach a-mhàin Siogaidh. Tha e fhathast a’ feitheamh gus an gluais an t-ugh aige.
Aabody’s lined up ready tae gang.
Ziggy luiks at the egg on his spin.
It disnae luik as if it can gang gey quick.
Maggie’s teacher, Mr. Presley, blaws his whistle an awa they gang!
Weel, aabody bar Ziggy. He’s still waitin for his egg tae shift.
“Go Ziggy!” everyone cheers.
Ziggy looks up. Everyone’s walking very fast as they try to balance their eggs on their spoons.
Ahhhhhhhh!
That’s how you do it!
“Gluais a Shiogaidh!” tha a h-uile duine a’ gairm.
Tha Siogaidh a’ coimhead suas. Tha a h-uile duine a’ coiseachd glè luath agus iad a’ fleuchainn ris na h-uighean aca a chumail air na spàinean aca.
Seadh, tha mi a’ tuigsinn a-nis!
Sin mar a nì thu e!
“Gang on Ziggy!” aabody cheers.
Ziggy keeks upweys. Aabody’s daunerin alang deid quick as they ettle at keepin their eggs on their spins.
Ochhhhhhhh!
Yon’s hoo ye dae it!
Beep. Beep.
“I haven’t got all day,” he says as he pushes past Frankie.
“Get out of the way!” he shouts as he pushes past Maggie.
“Moooooooove!” he shouts as he pushes past Jasmine.
Bìob. Bìob.
“Chan eil mi ag iarraidh a bhith an seo fad an latha,“ the e ag èigheachd agus e a’ putadh seachad air Frankie.
“A-mach às an rathad!” tha e ag èigheachd agus e a’ puthdh seachad air Magaidh.
“Gluaaaaaais!” tha e ag èigheachd agus e a’ putadh seachad air Jasmine.
Beep. Beep.
“Ah’ve no got aa day,” he says as he breenges by Frankie.
“Shift oot the wey!” he skreighs as he breenges by Maggie.
“Moooooove!” he skreighs as he breenges by Jasmine.
Ziggy is so busy shouting he doesn’t notice that his egg is wibbly wobbly.
So wibbly wobbly that it wibbles right off his spoon.
Oh, Ziggy.
Tha Siogaidh cho trang ag èigheachd is nach eil a’ mothachadh gu bheil an t-ugh aige a fàs gu math cugallach.
Tha a cho cugallach is gu bheil e a’ tuiteam far na spàine aige.
O, a Shiogaidh.
Ziggy’s that taen up wi skreighin an disnae tent that his egg is shoogly.
That shoogly that it shoogles richt aff his spin.
Ocht, Ziggy.
The next race is the three-legged race. Ziggy partners with Frankie.
Mr Presley blows his whistle.
Ziggy and Frankie try to go as fast as they can.
‘S e an ath rèis an rèis thrì-casach. Tha Frankie agus Siogaidh nan com-pàirtichean.
Tha Mrg Presley a’ sèideach na feadaige aige.
Tha Siogaidh is Frankie a’ feuchainn ri dhol cho luath ‘s as urrainn dbaibh.
The next race is the thrie-leggit race. Ziggy pals up wi Frankie.
Mr. Presley blaws his whistle.
Ziggy an Frankie ettle at gangin as fast as they can.
“Beep. Beep!” they shout as they overtake Sophie and Euan.
“Hurry up!” they shout as they overtake Alex and Emilie.
“Get out of the way!” they shout as they push past Louis and Harry.
“Bìob. Bìob!” tha iad ag èigheachd fhad ‘s a tha iad a’ dol seachad air Sophie is Eòghann.
“Greas ort!” tha iad ag èigheachd fhad ‘s a tha iad a’ dol seachad air Ailig is Emilie.
“A-mach às an rathad!” tha iad ag èigheachd fhad ‘s a tha iad a’ putadh seachad air Louis is Harry.
“Beep. Beep!” they skreigh as they owretak Sophie an Euan.
“Get a shift on!” they skreigh as they rin by Alex an Emilie.
“Shift oot the wey!” they skreigh as they breenge by Louis an Harry.
Maggie and Jasmine are in the lead.
“We need to get ahead,” says Frankie.
Ziggy nods. They push in front, but too close.
The girls can’t stop in time…
Tha Magaidh is Jasmine air thoiseach air càch.
“Feumaidh sinn a dhol seachad orra,” tha Frankie ag ràdh.
Tha Ziggy a’ dèanamh cromadh-cinn. Tha iad a’ putadh seachad orra, ach tha iad ro dhlùth.
Chan urrainn do na nigheanan stad ann an àm…
Maggie an Jasmine are winnin.
“We maun get aheid,” says Frankie.
Ziggy nods. They breenge tae the front but owre close.
The girls cannae stap in time…
Crash!
They fall in a big heap.
The grown-ups rush over to make sure everyone is okay.
Brag!
Tha iad a’ tuiteam ann an càrn mòr.
Tha na h-inbhich a’ tighinn a-nall gus dèanamh cinnteach gu bheil a h-uile duine ceart gu leòr.
Skelp!
They coup heelster-gowdie aathegither.
The adults skite owre tae mak siccar aabody’s weel.
“You’ve been very naughty, Ziggy,” says Maggie.
“Shouting at people to get out of the way might be the way you behave on your planet, but it’s not how we behave here. Say sorry.”
“Bha thu uamhasach mì-mhodhail a Shiogaidh,” tha Magaidh ag ràdh.
“Is dòcha gum bi thu ag èigheachd air daoine agus ag iarraidh orra a dhol a-mach às an rathad anns a’ phlanaid agad, ach chan bhi sin a dèanamh rudan mar. sin an seo. Can gu bheil thu duilich.”
“Ye’ve been affy gallus, Ziggy,” says Maggie.
“Skreighin at fowk for tae get oot the wey micht be hoo ye cairry on on yer ain planet, but it’s no hoo we dae things here. Say sorry.”
“I think I’m the one who should be saying sorry,” says Frankie’s mum.
“I took Ziggy to school this morning and he heard me telling cars to hurry up and cyclists to get out of my way.”
“Tha mi a’ smaoineachadh gur a mise a bu chòir a bhith ag ràdh gu bheil mi duilich,” tha mamaidh Frankie ag ràdh.
“Thug mu Siogaidh dhan sgoil madainn an-diugh agus chuala e mi ag innse do chàraichean a dhol nas luaithe agus do bhaidhsagalan a dhol a-mach às mo rathad.”
“Aiblins Ah’m the ane wha should say sorry,” says Frankie’s ma.
“Ah taen Ziggy tae the schuil this mornin an he lugged on tae me tellin motors tae get a shift on an cyclists tae get oot ma wey.”
“Ah,” says Mr Presley.
“So you were copying what you heard in the car?”
Ziggy nods.
“I’m so sorry Ziggy,” says Frankie’s mum.
“I behaved badly. Shouting and getting angry doesn’t get you anywhere quicker.”
“A,” tha Mgr Presley ag ràdh.
“An robh thu a dèanamh an aon rud ‘s a chuala tu sa chàr?”
Tha Ziggy a’ dèanamh cromadh-cinn.
“Tha mi cho duilich a Siogaidh,” tha mamaidh Frankie ag ràdh. “Bha mi mi-mhodail Chan fhaigh thu gu àite nas luaithe le bhith ag èigheachd is a’ fàs feargach.”
“Richt,” says Mr. Presley.
“Sae ye were copyin whit ye heard in the motor?”
Ziggy nods.
“Ah’m that sorry Ziggy,” says Frankie’s ma. “Ah went on like a daftie. Skreighin an fashin disnae get ye onywhaur mair quickly.”
“That’s very true,” says Mr Presley.
“And, as we’ve seen here today, when we don’t share our space properly we can cause an accident.”
He smiles at Ziggy. “But I think when you’re all old enough to drive you’ll know exactly how to behave.”
They all agree.
“Tha sin glè cheart,” tha Mgr Presley ag ràdh.
“Agus, mar a chunnaic sinn an seo an-diugh nuair nach bi sinn a’ co-rionn spàs mar as còir, is dòcha gun adhbharaich sinn tubaist.”
Tha e a’ dèanamh gàire ri Siogaidh. “Ach nuair a bhios tu mòr gu leòr airson dràbheadh, bidh fios agad direach mar a bu chòir dhut thu fhèin a ghiùlan.”
Tha iad uile ag aontachadh.
“Yon’s richt eneuch,” says Mr. Presley.
“An as we’ve tentit here the day, when we dinnae gie owre space the richt wey, we can mak an accident.”
He smiles at Ziggy. “But Ah jalouse ye’ll ken hoo tae behave brawlie syne ye’re auld eneuch tae drive.”
They a agree.
“Right, are you ready for the sack race?”
“Yes!!!!!”
Mr Presley helps Ziggy get into his sack.
“Mmm, it smells of cabbages,” says Ziggy.
“Ceart! A bheil sibh dieseil airson rèis an t-saic?”
“Tha!!!!!!!”
Tha Mgr Presley a’ cuideachadh Siogaidh gus faighinn a-steach dhan t-sac aige.
“Mmmmm, tha fàileadh a’ chàil air,” tha Siogaidh ag ràdh.
“Richt, youse fit for the sack race?”
“Aaayyyeee!!!!!!”
Mr. Presley gies Ziggy hauners gettin intae his sack.
“Mmmmm, it reeks o cabbages,” says Ziggy.
“We borrowed them from the local cabbage farm. Do you like cabbages?”
Ziggy smiles the biggest smile anyone could smile.
“I love cabbages!”
“Fhuair sinn iad iasad bho thuathanas càil anns an sgìre. An toil leat càl?”
Tha Siogaidh a’ dèanamh na gàire as motha a rinn duine sam bith riamh.
“Is fìor thoil leam càl!”
“We lent them aff the local cabbage fairm. D’ye like cabbages?”
Ziggy smiles the maist muckle smile a body can smile.
“Ah luve cabbages!”
Mr Presley blows his whistle.
Everyone jumps as fast as they can towards the finish line.
Ziggy’s in the lead!
Tha Mgr Presley a’ sèideadh na feadaige aige.
Tha a h-uile duine a’ leum a dh’ionnsaigh na loidhne crìochnachaidh cho luath ‘s a ghabhas.
Tha Siogaidh air thoiseach air càch!
Mr. Presley blaws his whistle.
Aabody loups fast as they can tae the feenishin line.
Ziggy’s at the front!
Ziggy looks around and sees that Maggie’s stuck behind him.
He moves over a bit to let her in…
And they both cross the finish line together.
Hurray!
Tha Siogaidh a’ coimhead timcheall air agus a’ faicinn gu bheil Magaidh stuicte air a chùlaibh.
Tha e a’ gulasad rud beag gus am faigh i a-steach… agus thèid iad thairis air an loidhne crìochnachaidh còmhla.
Ho-rò!
Ziggy luiks roon an tents Maggie’s stuck ahint him.
He shoogles owre a bit tae let her in…. An the baith o them gang owre the feenishin line thegither.
Mintit!
At the end of the day Mr Presley gets everyone together.
“Have you all had fun?”
Everyone cheers.
Aig Deireadh an latha tha Mgr Presley a’ cruinneachadh a h-uile duine còmhla.
“An robh deagh spòrs agaibh?”
Tha a h-uile duine a’ èigheach ann an aonta.
At the feenish o the day Mr. Presley brings aabody thegither.
“Did youse aa hae a braw time?”
Aabody cheers.
“This year we’re going to give a special award to someone who has shown fantastic sportsmanship. To someone who was a very special friend in the Sack Race.”
“Can you guess who that special someone is?”
“Am-bliadhna, tha sinn a’ dol a thoirt duais shònraichte do neach-spòrs a thug Cothrom na Fèinne do chàch. Do Chuideigin a bha na fhìor dheagh charaid ann an Rèis an t-Saic.”
Saoil cò an neach sònraichte sin?”
“This year we’re gonnae gie a special award tae somebody wha’s shown braw sportsmanship. Tae somebody wha wis a gey guid freen in the Sack Race.
Can ye guess wha yon special somebody is?”
“Ziggy!!!!!!”
Everyone cheers as Mr Presley presents Ziggy with his trophy.
Ziggy couldn’t be happier. Or could he…?
“Siogaidh!!!!!”
Tha a h-uile duine fior thoilichte nuair a tha Mgr Presley a’ toirt an trophaidh do Shiogaidh.
Cha b’ urrainn Siogaidh a bhith na bu thoilichte. No am b’ urrain…?
“Ziggy!!!!!!”
Aabody cheers as Mr. Presley gies owre the trophy tae Ziggy.
Ziggy couldnae be mair hairt-gled. Or could he…?
“Look inside,” whispers Mr Presley.
Sitting inside is the biggest, greenest juiciest cabbage Ziggy has ever seen.
“Coimhead air an taobh a-staigh,” tha Mgr Presley ag ràdh gu sàmhach.
Anns an trophaidh tha an càl as motha, as uaine agus às sùghmhoire a chunnaic Siogaidh riamh.
“Luik inby,” whispers Mr. Presley.
Coorit inby is the maist muckle, green, juicy cabbage Ziggy’s e’er clapped een on.
Ziggy is so happy, there’s only one thing he can possibly say.
Can you guess what it is?
Tha Siogaidh cho toilichte agus chan eil ach aon rud a b’ urrainn dha a ràdh.
Saoil dè a th’ ann?
Ziggy’s that blythe, there’s anely the ane thing he can possibly come oot wi.
D’ye ken whit yon is?
Zab-a-Ding-a-Doo!
Zab-a-Ding-a-Doo!
Zab-a-Ding-a-Doo!
