Nibbles the Book Monster, in my house at least, has managed to achieve something quite spectacularly tricky. It appealed to and delighted both my youngest boy, who is a solid super-hero-loving-three-year-old and my oldest girl, who is five-turning-six-quite-soon-my-goodness-where-do-all-the-years-go?
Now, that might not sound all that much. There is, after all, only a couple of years between them. But the truth is that these days their literary tastes rarely converge. Bedtime used to be a wonderful, wriggling pile of a half-dozen elbows, arms and legs, as one parent lay in the middle while each child gazed upon a favourite picture book. Chaotic and far from comfortable, but fun.
But now, my eldest (my-goodness-where-do-all-the-years-go!) often prefers to read Flat Stanley on her own. On occasion, she takes herself off all together for what she calls ‘private time’ which, from what I can gather, involves marshalling her teddies and giving them some quite severe orders about lining up and sitting nicely.
I thought those shared bedtime moments had passed. But Nibbles the Book Monster, I’m very happy to say, has brought us all back together, elbows and all.