Something had better work. I’m in the doghouse right now
I’m straining to name a dragon and coming up short. My son is looking on impassively, beginning to lose respect for me. Storytime with my son has always been one of the true joys of parenting, but increasingly it’s becoming one of the only such pleasures. The hormone swings of toddlerhood have made him more, shall we say, spirited for the past few weeks (read: quite often just short of unbearable), so time spent in his special chair poring over his favourite books has taken on greater significance, both as a necessary top valve for his tantrums and a reminder that he does like us at least some of the time.
His recent favourite book is one in which a pigeon must find the lost glasses of the Irish president, Michael D Higgins