Georgie loves books. Basically he loves when I read to him. Every evening before we head upstairs he makes me promise to read him a ‘big book, mummy, not a little one’. Once we’re nestled in his bed and I begin to read I always notice the way he stares at me, my mouth and the expressions I make while reading as if my face can tell a better story than the pictures. I read to him every day which means we go through an impressive amount of used, borrowed and new books. Recently, in a bid to mix things up I stocked his bookshelf with storybooks I had when I was little. Big and chunky with bare pages and packed with various stories from Tom Thumb to The Snow Queen, they seem worlds away from the versions published today. I have had to explain what ‘shan’t’ means on more than one occasion! Man, I feel old sometimes.
