The Road Home

Fridays mark a kind of spiritual homecoming. Often late home from work, it’s a chance to wash ourselves clean of the week’s endurance test, support one another better and offer the support there’s is rarely time to give. Occasionally, it also marks the opportunity to venture further afield and focus rare attention on extended family, or rarer still, our family of friends by virtue of shared paths.
Last night we also shared another book we haven’t seen for a while, The Happy Little Yellow Box by David A Carter: a fabulous book teaching opposites through a series of pop-up adventure and puzzles. It’s fabulous. Bright, immediately engaging, intriguing and resolutely non-patronising. Unlike other books, this is one my daughter loved instantly. In fact, so much that it’s battered, now, after many tussles with the paper structures and with me, too, having engaged one too many times in rescuing the book. Too late, one realises, it’s just paper, she’s just learning, it’s not sacrilege if it gets damaged in the course of its living out its purpose. Let it be.
It was joyous to hear monkey face recalling Up and Down (without prompting) and exploring the book she hasn’t seen in a few months.
Today, we arrived at my mother’s home, book in tow, where the child always makes developmental leaps. There are new book purchases awaiting us here. I can’t wait to get back home and try them out with her and scruff up a few pages in the process. Life is for getting a bit battered and bruised as we learn.
Happy weekend all. Peace and love

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