‘Mummy stay with me,’ Isla says after 67 books last night. We worked through a stack and then I had to drive backwards over some Lego to get to her bookcase. ‘Clean your room tomorrow, please.’ ‘OK’, she says. ‘Read Miss Messy again.’ Sometimes she lays in our bed for stories, and sometimes I squeeze into hers. If I don’t think I’ll get up again, I park beside her bed. She crawls into my lap, still. This kid. She’s…
