|Oh help, oh no, not The Gruffalo........|
Last night, at bedtime, The G could be found in a mischievous mood . . . .
"You can choose the story," she informed me as we prepared to sit down in the chair beside her bed.
I reached for The Gruffalo.
"Not that one," she said dismissively, and pulled The Tiger Who Came to Tea from the shelves.
Several minutes later, the tale over, I tucked The G into bed and started saying goodnight.
"Will you sing me a song?" she asked, all sweetness and light.
I obliged (Twinkle Twinkle, her choice), before turning down the lights and preparing to leave her for the night.
Just prior to departing the room, The G looked at me, the cheekiest-possible expression on her face.
"Did you sing me a song?" she asked.
Sighing, I answered in the positive.
She thought about this for a moment, as though considering how much more she might still be able to get away with.
"When?" she said, giggling, at which point I just switched off the light and left . . . .