Late last night I was putting the finishing touches to my preparations for today's teaching. Suddenly, from upstairs, I heard a really odd noise, something a bit like a cat coughing up a fur-ball. (We don't have a cat). I listened for a second; I wondered if the one year old was having a nightmare, or laughing in his sleep. (Yes, he does do that occasionally).
Then it started to scare me - it was such a weird sound and they'd all been silent and, as far as I knew, deep in sleep, for a couple of hours. I went up the stairs two at a time, and opened the bedroom door a wee bit faster than I ought....and there was the five year old, wide awake and giggling uncontrollably by torchlight. It turned out she was reading 'The Magic Faraway Tree' by Enid Blyton and had come to a funny bit.
I could hardly be expected to be angry that she's taking after me (I remember hiding the torchlight under the covers, though, and I also had the good sense not to giggle when I was meant to be asleep). Besides it was kind of hard to talk past the lump I got in my throat when I realised she is stepping into Wonderland on her own. I almost envy her, all those lovely, gorgeous stories she has yet to read. So I just giggled with her, and I'll try my absolute best to be cross the next time I catch her.