118. Bedtime stories

To my son:

'Daddy's turn to read tonight so hurry up to bed.'

And to my husband:

'We're starting a new book. It's on the top shelf on the landing. It's got a red cover.'

The girls are reading by themselves and the baby is already asleep. I'm just pottering around the top floor, picking up toys and straightening rugs. I love this time at night, when all are in bed reading or sleeping and everyone and everything is peacefully winding down for the night. 

'Just ... out of here, do you thing we ... It was cold outside and they ... went to ... We need to go ..., he said ...'

This story sounds very strange and I am wondering if my husband is trying a new style of reading. Maybe he's had a discussion at work with an other dad about how to engage boys in reading by missing out bits of sentences. After all we often talk about how to get children to read, especially boys.

'Oh ... He shouted ...! It is nothing to ... of your ... interest ... that the ... '

Definitely puzzling. Maybe a new breakthrough. New interactive reading with dad method. Something unknown to us mothers. Way beyond us. I am about to let him get on with this educational practice. After all it seems to be sending my son to sleep. Yet, as I am on the top step, I can hear him:

'Dad, give me the book, please!'

'Shhhh! Just listen to the story ...' 

'Dad! I want to see the words! You're not reading it properly!'

My husband continues in his broken sentences.

'I want mummy!' 

I start to make my way down the stairs. This may be completely childish and totally shameful but it is not my turn to read! Tonight it is innovative reading methods with daddy. On the way my sixth sense tells me to glance at the shelf and surely enough my son's book is still sitting there, waiting patiently. While my book has disappeared!

Surely he is not reading that to my son! Surely my husband can tell the difference between the books his children read and the books his wife reads! Actually, probably not. So, in panic, I stop and yell.

'Enough reading now! It's bedtime!'

My husband is obviously keen to stop the experimental method.

'You hear mummy! Time to sleep! Good night!' This kind of gap-reading exercice has tired our son out as he does not complain and says good night.

Safely out of earshot, I say:

'For goodness' sake! You picked the wrong book! Did you not notice all the swear words? The first few pages of this book are completely inappropriate for him!'

'I know! That's why I kept skipping words. I wondered why you'd picked that book. I was going to ask you about that.'

'Why didn't you stop and change the book? He's 7 years old, you know!'

'I know! I thought, well, it's just the first page ... and then he wanted to see the pages! I thought if you'd chosen that book well it had to get good at some point ...'

'I said the red cover! I've always thought you were colourblind! You should get your eyes tested!'

'And you shouldn't leave your books lying around! The kids could pick that up and read it!'

'It's not that bad that I need to hide it from them!'

We just laughed it off while enjoying our dinner outside under a starry night, nightbirds or insects chirping in the distance. To this day my husband still hasn't had his eyes tested and my son still hasn't read this book!

The book was 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time' by Mark Haddon. I read later that the author himself had been somewhat surprised at the way the artwork for the foot cover seemed to be marketed towards very young people. It definitely caught my husband's attention.