Stop talking, I'm telling a story...

The bedtime routine used to be simple. Clean cut. Bath, a story or two (three on a bad night), kiss kiss, sweet dreams and retreat. Clean. Straight in and out, no messing. 

Not so anymore. Grace has taken charge. 

I can thank preschool for this change. Story circle I think they call it. Where they sit and listen, quiet as a lamb while the reader holds the book a certain way so the whole class can see the page.

Yes, I have preschool to blame. 

For I'm in the throes of 'a squash and a squeeze' last night, the flavour of the day, and all of a sudden I get told to stop! Stop!

"What's the matter?" I enquire, nonplussed.

"You're holding the book wrong!" She tells me, moving my fingers to the spine and turning the book to face the room. "Like this Mummy!" She nods, satisfied.

I pick up where I left off, adjusting to the new position, enjoying our time together. As I draw to a close, I'm aware that Grace is looking fidgety. 

"My turn now Mummy!" She declares, peeling the book from my grip. 

"Really?" I concede, half an eye on the clock.

"Yes, now sit down cross-legged and be quiet. Listen!"

And so I sat. And I listened. So endearing hearing her interpret the pictures in her own way, pebbled with the odd 'be quiet!' aimed at me for joining in or laughing, or something. One book led to two and more. More! MORE! A moment to be cherished.

A bit like the moment at the end of a long day between a child's bedtime and your own. 

It was short last night. A bittersweet combo of Grace finding her storytelling wings and me needing to hit the sack early. 

Night all.

Little Miss Independant

When Grace went to Daisychain nursery for the last time, my heart broke just a little bit. For nearly two years she has been going, her home away from home. She loved it, and I loved that she loved it. She's learnt so much from them, not least of all how to start out in life being little miss independant.

"Gracie do it!" has become one of the most-heard phrases in our house.

Take the bedtime story for instance. We have been reading "We're going on bear hunt" since it was passed down to us from a good friend of mine just after Grace came into the world. She knows it, the way it rolls, whats on the next page. I didn't realise how soon it would be before she started telling us... "No Mummy, Gracie read it!"

Of course she's not actually reading, she's recalling the pattern of the words, remembering the pictoral cues on each page. Nevertheless, my little miss independant is pretty darn good!

"Going on a bear hunt.... big one... not scared.... beautiful day"
"Grass! Swishy swashy, swishy swashy!"
"Going on a bear hunt.... big one... not scared... beautiful day"
"Mud! Squelch squerch!"

it goes on, through the snowstorm, through the river, through the dark wood....

"stumble trip, stumble trip"

to the cave

"dark cave, not scared. Tiptoe tiptoe. It's a bear! Raaaaaaaaaaa!" she mimics a bear at this point, claws ready to pounce!

"quick! back home, upstairs, door, stairs, bed"
"no bear hunt again"
"End!"

I'd video or soundbite it, but I'm not allowed. Little miss independant tells me "No Mummy. Away!"
So I put the smartphone away. I've been told.

And I ask her, has Mummy told you she loves you today?

"Yes Mummy. Love you too. Gracie do it".

And we both go to bed.

Imaginary beginnings

Tucked up in Mummy's bed this morning while I got ready for work, Grace took to reading her book to Upsy Daisy. Very cute to listen to although much of it made no sense at all, until she sat bolt upright and demonstrated with arms outstretched how Charley Bear flies his aeroplane.

Then I knew exactly where she was up to.

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Her imagination is running rife at the moment. She has a little plastic Happyland horse that she spent the night with last night, we call him Fred the Foal after a board book I picked up for her in Wales last year. She adores both. I had to shoehorn Fred out of her clutches last night while she was sleeping, uncurling her fingers. The moment he released from her grasp, her hand started searching on the bed sheet so I popped Mr Rabbit back within reach and she settled until morning. Lovely.



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(Extra) Good Books

Bedtime routine has always been an easy affair in our house. Grace climbs the stairs at the end of the bedtime hour on CBeebies at 7pm, plays while her bath is run, cleans her teeth and then hops in the tub. How long she spends in there depends on her mood and whether there is a tired-toddler-tantrum hanging out in the wings.

Recently Grace has been employing tactics to delay bedtime, even though she might be overtired.

Take today for instance. A full day of flat out fun at nursery, total nap time 50 minutes... short by Grace's standards. She's tired. I know it, because she whinged her way through dinner, refused a bath, refused to clean her teeth and insisted on clinging to my finger the whole time (and I mean the whole time) from walking in the door from work to getting as far as putting her in her PJs ready for bed. It's hard cooking dinner with a toddler on your hip. Anyway, there I am, Grace in her PJs and she throws another paddy, desperate to wear the t-shirt I have laid out for tomorrow morning. Judging by the kicking and screaming, she has a very strong opinion this is going to be put on top of her pyjama top - she's not fussed about being too warm - this is how it HAS to be. So we do it.

Tantrum abated, we read a book and she has some milk to drink before I lift her gently into bed and sneak out of the room as she falls asleep as her head hits the pillow.

In my dreams.

For about a week now, since we got back from Turkey, Grace has decided she is NOT letting her Mummy go at bedtime. AND she wants to read book after book after book... at bedtime. I am hostage. Any attempt to inch closer to the door brings on tantrums, red faces, tears (and I'm certain, bad language).

She has two books that are flavour of the day, currently being read so often I almost know them verbatim. Tonight, we read the same book 3 times, and she still wanted more. Now either Grace is slipping into the terrible two's a little early, or these writers of children's book are jolly good at what they do and have a lot to answer for.

Julia Donaldson, author of The Gruffalo is first on my hit list. What the Ladybird Heard is a super little story that lets me exploit my inner-Yorkshire voice to become the story teller. Grace enjoys the rhyming, the animal noises and the way she gets to spot the ladybird on each page.

Shortly followed by Chloe & Mick Inkpen who penned this little beauty...

 Both much loved, dog earred, dribbled on, taken to bed and slept on like a pillow. These books are currently Grace's bedtime comfort. When Mummy's handhold slips from the room, these books are there to comfort. Yes, I listen to tears as I close the door and she realises when I say it's bedtime it really is bedtime. But after a moment or so, I can hear her settling down with a good book before she drifts off to sleep.

Not just a good book. An extra-good book.

Our little world book day

So we set about today with a gusto normally reserved for pay day and birthdays. It's World Book Day and in celebration of all things literary, Grace and me, we're having our own little party! A lover of books, particularly the of ones with enough board to nibble, Grace will often bring me one book after another to sit on my lap and read... it's our special time.

She has her favourites as any child would and if I may be permitted to cast a little of myself into this post as well, then these are the ones we favour the most... it is after all about the pleasure derived from reading and the exploration into a fictional world that comes alive between two covers. Here's a few we love to read the most... HAPPY WORLD BOOK DAY! and remember to let me know what you're reading at the mo!