The Monkey-face hasn’t read in days. I’m keeping the faith. I am, because I know this is just about balancing and the schedule and that slowly it will come back because she loves a story. In fact, don’t we all?
I got home last night in a cruddy mood and there awaiting me was a book sent from my oldest friend. He’s sent a copy of The Magic Bed by John Burningham. What kind of kids’ book blogger am I that I don’t have any of John Burningham’s books and – worse – I’ve read nothing of his either? (My name is bookandbed and I am a fairweather book blogger.) I was really looking forward to reading with her, but as MF was over tired and decided to hit me, she was sent to bed without a bedtime story, which always makes me really sad. So I didn’t get to read this with her at all yet but did look at it myself at around 3am, an hour when I should actually have been in my own magic bed. Instead I was woken at 2am by an automated call from my company’s disaster recovery team to my landline – which would wake the dead – to tell me email was down. I’ve been awake since, writing and reading, so it isn’t all bad but I guess I’ll see this differently in a few hours when I want to lie down under my desk and pray for sleep.
The Magic Bed feels like a classic from my childhood and tells of all the fantastical adventures that take place in a little boy’s bed. It’s a great length for my daughter’s age-group (3), the story’s just loose enough and the illustrations richly detailed enough to stimulate our chats and imaginings. I’m only hoping it doesn’t stimulate a need for a new bed (as hers is very like the “too small” bed for the child in the story) and that I get to read with her before I head off back into my own magic bed in many hours’ time.