All four of my children read in bed tonight. This makes me hugely happy. In their screen-obsessed little worlds, it feels like a constant battle to get them turn off the telly/iPad/DS and open a book. But as Seb has had his head buried in the Skulduggery series for days now, Leo remains fascinated by his children’s bible and picture dictionary, Reece is delighted by the gore and giggles of Walliams and Dahl and Niamh is Harry Maclary mad, I can go to bed feeling happier (if somewhat hypocritical, as I write my blog from my iPhone and ignore the Man Booker award winning novel on my night stand).
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