Don’t you just LOVE a book, in whatever it’s form?
Whenever I am having one of those days: the days I realise I’ve got too much on, when I’m up at six making skeleton gingerbread men and my husband walks into the kitchen and gives me THAT look to advise me that, essentially, this isn’t normal behaviour and keep this up and soon I’ll be spending weekends crying on the sofa in my pyjamas if I don’t cut it out.
On days when I think I’m useless at everything, those are the days when you collect your monkey from the Childminder and the childminder is lending you a precious book. A book that she reared her son on and that your daughter is now in the grip of obsession of.
It could have been a toy but it wasn’t. I put it in my bag and thought she’d forget about it, but when we arrived home she wanted to know “where is auntie’s book?”
When we got inside and she had a toilet accident, she wanted to know where the book was.
In order to keep her on the toilet to try and help her to do a poo, it was sitting and reading the book with her.
It’s a really lovely book and I will be buying it for her for Christmas. It’s name Farmyard Tales Christmas.
Those are the days when you know you are doing something right.