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When I was little I was a book worm.

OK let me rephrase that, when I was little I lived, breathed and often slept on books.

The stories I read gave me an escapism I sorely needed and I sometimes wonder if some of my grown up stress comes from having lost that escape. I would only lend my books under duress and if the spines got cracked, I would colour them in with felt tip so they still looked new. I cared deeply for the characters in each and every story and my habit got do expensive that in the end, it had to be rationed.

I think somewhere (not so) deep down I was hoping that one of my children would follow in my bookish footsteps and it gives me unbelievable joy to sit with them and read their favourite stories.

Even if it is the same story over and over and oh dear LORD can't we pick a different one tonight.

So here we are, reading Tiddler, my bookish little girl and I. And a baby making sure her boob doesn't run away while she's not looking.


  1. lol- so similar to us! I was reading Freya 'The Witches' just last night in fact, with Erika standing by the bed with her head up my top!

  2. Well these boobs are sneaky things, well known for running away given half a chance ;-) I have a photo of Esme asleep with her hand down my top, in fact for a while that was the only way she would fall asleep


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