William adores story time. He baths from 6 til 6:30pm, then excitedly runs to his room ready for a quick change into his Jim Jams before climbing on the sofa with his lion, cup of milk and a pile of books. We solely dedicate this time to reading with him and have a no TV or answering of phones rule in place to ensure it's uninterrupted. It's the time of day we all seem to love the most. William has progressed from lift and touch books to proper stories and it's a delight to see him joining in and remembering the words. All good, or so I thought.
I'm not sure what you think but quite a few of the stories are not actually that pleasant. Two of the three little pigs get eaten then the wolf gets boiled alive. The troll in the billy goats gruff gets head butted into the water never to be seen again, not before scaring the life out of your child with his big teeth and sharp claws and as for the poor gingerbread man, well that's where the trouble began.
Up until now it's been one of his favourites stories. Although he gets eaten at the end William didn't seem too concerned and more often than not was caught up in trying to remember the words and join in. He often said "poor gingerbread man" as the fox gobbled him up, quickly followed by "the end" before readily moving onto the next book.
Today I took him into town for a babyccino (warm frothy milk in an expresso cup) and as an extra special treat I bought him a little ginger bread man. He was so excited. Before I knew it he was reciting the whole story, bopping the little thing around saying " let me out, let me out" and "run run as fast as can, you can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man". He nibbled at his hands and feet but didn't really seem that hungry. Me being me asked William to share a bit. He had no qualms in handing him over, obviously assuming I would't hurt the little fellow. I gently bit into the top and was as horrified as Will when his whole head broke off! The look of concern on Wills face said it all. He was utterly mortified. The gingerbread man had no head and it was my fault "Poor ginger bread man" he shouted loudly, looking like he might cry and frantically looking at hubby and I for reassurance and support. Hubby and I were trying not to laugh as Will looked on in horror at his mutilated gingerbread man.
Thankfully there was a man outside playing the violin and having recently learnt the words to the music man, Daddy managed to distract him by singing "Vio vio Violin" whilst lifting him from his seat and discreetly hiding the crumbled remains under a napkin. By this stage I felt awful, he was clearly concerned and bit bemused by the sudden demise of his gingerbread man.
Needless to say tonight at story time he asked for Peter Rabbit instead. I can only assume for us, for now, that was the end of the gingerbread man.