Under the Bed Are you reading this in the daytime? If not, put it down again and wait until tomorrow. Is there someone there with you? If not, go get someone now: you do NOT want to be alone when you read this….
My wee brother Joe is 5 years old. Because I’m 11, and therefore more or less an adult, sometimes I’m allowed to put Joe to bed when Mum and Dad are busy with the other children (or watching The Great British Bake-Off). Usually I enjoy putting Joe to bed – I help him pick his pyjamas, get to make him brush his teeth, read him his bedtime story, all of that. He can be a wee bit lively, like all kids at bedtime, but he knows if he pushes it too much I’ll get Mum and Dad, so most of the time he does what I tell him. Sometimes I tease him with stories about bogeymen, or zombies, or monsters under the bed, but he knows I’m only joking and it doesn’t really scare him. Although sometimes he pretends it does, and threatens to tell Mum and Dad, and so I have to read him another story or leave the light on a bit longer. Last night, Joe was playing up quite a bit (“acting the maggot” Dad calls it) and I have to admit my patience was wearing very thin indeed (that’s another one of Dad’s). First we picked his pyjamas, and that was a row: he searched the drawer, throwing pyjamas out left, right and centre, trying to figure out which ones were in the wash so he could ask for them. “I want Batman!”