Our daughter caught a virus at school. I think she has a respiratory infection; my husband is firmly in the ‘just a cold’ camp. Either way she has a cough; bunged-up nose; and, most, recently, a sudden aversion to any light in her bedroom when settling at night. She started by trying to hide under a cushion, but this made it hard to breathe, so she tried to bury herself in my chest. This made it difficult for me to leave, and consistently work her up every time I got off the bed. Eventually, we bit the bullet and just told her the stories that we could in the dark – the ones we have memorised.
Which is all very well with simple stories like The Gruffalo and Stickman, but her most cherished book/nighttime read is The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samual Coleridge. Which is somewhat longer, and has more challenging prose. My husband is very good: he can do, I would say, 99% of the poem without prompt. But every now and then, it is nice to be able to check the start of a line or verse.
So, we bought from our favourite online river a couple of book lights that proclaimed ‘low level’ light settings, allegedly ‘perfect for nighttime reading’.
Long story short: they lie. They lit up the room like a Christmas tree. My husband has taken to hiding his light in his hand to muffle it; mine fits snugly down my shirt, which does mute it but I then need to snap my fingers several times to stop said husband from staring at what the light is now illuminating. I tried duck tape but it blocks everything; if you punch little holes in the tape you get a wonderful constellation effect and then she just stares at the stars rather than sleeping.
It was a relief when she allowed us to use the side light again. Only for reading, mind, as she has now decided that using the book light to make a shadow theatre is an integral part of her evening routine.
All this because of her love of long poems. A while back, we bought an illustrated copy of Beowulf, but neither of us have the courage to show it to her.
Raising the Modern Fae 