If you wanted to find me as a child, all you had to do was look in the nearest corner and I’d be more than likely sat in it with my nose buried in a book.
I had loads of favourites, from Enid to Blyton, to Roald Dahl, to Judy Blume.
Which is why, when on having kids of my own, I suddenly had an excuse to re-buy all my favourites from my childhood. Not for me, you understand.
For the KIDS.
The Tiger Who Came to Tea, and The Very Hungry Caterpillar were added to the already bulging bookcase, among others.
It’s easy to introduce the classics when the children are small, and to incorporate them into the bedtime routine so that they become firm favourites of theirs as well.
What about when they become older though, and decide to choose their own books? It’s not so easy then.
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