Sam and I read a lot of books together, we love story time. During the course of a day, I’m likely to read “That’s Not My Dinosaur” at least 10 times, not to mention the other 12 or so books we have.
Yesterday, Sam walked up to me brandishing a book that looked a bit different. Not a reading book for sure.
“Sam, sweetheart, that’s not a book. Could you go and choose another one?”
Cue scrunched up furious face and waving the ‘book’ at me.
“Come on now, go and find another one.”
More furious face. I decide to open the first couple of pages to show him. Sam settles next to me for story time.
“Look, see, this isn’t a story. Go and get That’s Not My Monster”.
He looks up at me in fury, stands up and throws a tantrum over the situation.
Next time I’ll just read him the flipping Lakeland catalogue.