I’ve just come downstairs from reading my son, that’s my middle one, a story. I haven’t read him one for years, not since he got his hands on my Harry Potters and gobbled them up in one go; I haven’t had to. No, instead, I’ve been handing him books, one at a time. He quite liked the first of The Tripods trilogy. He’s loved Swallows and Amazons. But tonight: tonight it was my turn.
It was a little story, one I bought for my friend Lisa’s little boy’s Christening. Her son has Down Syndrome too, so I wanted to buy him something special, something that would last, and something that wasn’t one of those hideous little boxes with ‘Baby’s First Tooth’ on the top. So I happened, as you do if you are me, into a bookshop. As it was for a Christening, I moseyed into SPCK.
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