My little boy was sick today, and so I kept him at home, away from all the excited kids at school. We made some apple juice and raspberry icy poles, and I read him this sweet and funny book: The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark by Jill Tomlinson.
I loved this little bit, towards the end, about how there is not "only one sort of night. [...] There are lots of other kinds, all beautiful".
"There are hot, scented summer nights; and cold windy nights when the scuffling clouds make ragged shadows across the ground; and breathless, thundery nights which are suddenly slashed with jagged white lightening; and fresh spring nights, when even the day birds can't bear to sleep; and muffled winter nights when snow blankets the ground and ices the houses and trees. Oh the nights I have seen".
And now I can hear him coughing again, poor thing. I hope tonight is a good one, and that in the morning he will be back to his happy self.