The child that books built.
Earlier today I had to repeatedly ask the older two to STOP READING and do their homework. Is it just me or does something feel wrong about that?
So it's nice when bedtime comes and they are eager to go to bed so they can read, and the Little One has his choosing time which can go on for quite some time, and usually involves reading a few himself first to check if he wants us to read it to him. I love those quiet murmurings of him telling himself the story. His version.
from' A Child's Sleep', by Carol Ann Duffy.
I stood at the edge of my child's sleep,
hearing her breathe;
although I could not enter there,
I could not leave.
Her sleep was a small wood,
perfumed with flowers;
dark, peaceful, sacred,
acred in hours.
By the time I had got Him settled tonight, The Smallest had fallen asleep on Jay's shoulder, listening to My Bloody Valentine. They all loved that music as babies. It's a strange one for me as the very sound of MBV makes me feel like I'm 17 again.