One of the best things about having kids; having a great excuse to read the books you loved as a child yourself! I read to my daughter every night since she was born. We have covered lots of new stuff, from Peppa Pig to naff Barbie stories and others that I liked, Rosie’s Hat, We’re going on a Bear Hunt. However the best times for us both is when take her to a place I loved and have not been for eons. We covered Mr Men and Narnia, we’ve taken trips to chocolate factories with Charlie Bucket and we have had manic Dr Suess moments and we must have rhymed Tootles the Taxi more times than you have had hot dinners. Recently we’ve been having a Roald Dahl season and managed to read Matilda, one which she likes but never did I get to read, girly stuff I would have thought! I did enjoy that trip in the giant peach with James. One day we will go all bunny-like as I always loved Watership Down. For now though we touched that base last night with a book that my mum bought down after a clearing out of their loft. It always made me cry when mum read it to me, always requesting it when I felt ill. So with my daughter a bit under the weather I proposed we choose this. The Velveteen Rabbit was read, every word flooding back to me as I progressed through the toy bunnies heartache, I kept looking in her eye as I read, see if I could see a tear. She loved the book, I was surprised; but she shed no tear. What else could I do, the desired effect was wasted, and this simply couldn’t be. I decide that I must go to the toilet, lock myself in and have a little cry myself…….