|The B lists his favourite books...........|
Book-mad here at the minute.
Recent additions include Clara Vulliamy's marvellous Muffin and, thanks to our friends at HarperCollins, Paddington goes for gold and Emma Chichester Clark's Lulu and the best cake ever.
These are certain to feature in greater detail at a later date.
For now, though, it's all about the Mr Men series.
They're proving most popular, these.
In the main, they're The B's preferred reads, although The G has grown rather partial to them in recent times too.
The other morning, for instance, supermarket-bound, she insisted on bringing a sizeable stack along for the ride.
Mid-shop - somewhere near the biscuit aisle, I believe - The B stopped the trolley, something on his mind.
"Daddy?" he said, as The G, her books forgotten for a moment, eyed the Chocolate Digestives. "What's the man called who made the Mr Men?"
"Roger Hargreaves," I replied.
The B thought this over for a moment.
"Does he live over the sea?" he asked, this B-speak for abroad.
"I don't think so," I replied.
The B digested this information.
"So where does he live?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," I admitted, a response that I'm finding is being used more and more often as his questions become more complicated/obscure/difficult to answer.
Thanks to the prevalence of biscuits and other assorted snack foods in our immediate environment, I managed to change the subject, enabling us to continue our shopping.
Back home again, though, back to the Mr Men, The G selecting her favourite titles and demanding that I read them all, one after the other.
This I didn't mind, the pastime in question one that ranks among the most popular at the present time.
The reading over, The B got up and carried the books to the dining room table, collecting his best Lightning McQueen pen and some paper en route.
There then followed a blissfully-quiet 30-minute period as he sat and practised his letters, copying out all the titles before him most diligently, as The G and I played a board game.
Like I said, book-mad here at the minute.
But it's not just about the reading . . . .