Today was a very sad day. When selecting tonight’s bedtime story, I may have tried to influence the Monkey away from Jez Alborough’s book Duck in the Truck, a book so horribly late back to the library that there’s a card from Lewisham downstairs probably annoucing my immediate excommunication from all libraries in the borough, nay the land. Yes, I’m too scared to open a letter about overdue library books. What kind of modern woman am I? A ridiculous one, that’s what. This is why I don’t as a rule borrow books from the library. By the time I take them back, I could have bought them many times over. I remember, back in the dark days of the 1980s I once racked up an £18 library fine. That’s about £100 in new money. (It isn’t, I exaggerate, but this was a big old fine for a teenager!) I’ve been phobic ever since. So, aware that Duck in the Truck’s time is really up and that Lewisham will be able to reinstate a few essential services once I’ve paid my dues, I thought I’d steer in the direction of an old favourite that we actually own: Crazy Hair by Neil Gaiman.
I was so very sad – she not only threw it across the room to emphasise how much this gorgeous book was not Duck in the Truck, but when I did actually metaphorically twist her arm to start reading it, she didn’t remember it at all! When I waited for her to say Crazy Haaaair she just looked at me blankly. I don’t think I helped the situation by trying to read it whilst brushing her newly washed hair.
Sniff. This sorry state of affairs needs correcting and speedily! Meantime, if anyone has any ideas how to get a child to actually shut up and go to sleep, I’m all ears. And crazy hair.