I just realised I left the bit about reading scary, gory sections (to Linnea, 4y6m) from books hanging. The pig-butchering and headcheese-making scene in Little House in the Big Woods went down well, but the book got incredibly boring at the sugaring-off dance, so we've left it for now. We'll come back to it again, later, I think - she likes to flick through it and look at the illustrations of the parts we've read and "read" them to Emer (2y3m).
When my naughty little sister was good has no scary bits.
We are now in another phase of no-no-don't-read-to-me-mummy. She has also decided that she can't write her name - and has never been able to write her name - this has always been so, this will always be so - perhaps we'll read 1984 next.
Along with not being able to read again comes a leap in personal hygiene and grooming. And more begging for a bruvva.
Wading through autumnal mud - On Instagram I wrote: I don’t know how I manage to forget, every year, that I will slow down and grind to a halt as the seasons change. I will want to hibe...
5 days ago