“Ready for a bath honey?” Anne asked her son as she stood in the living room doorway, already in her flowing white dressing gown.
“Almost mummy,” Sammy replied. The dark-haired child was kneeling on the floor, wearing just his Spiderman pyjamas as he scribbled in a colouring-book with wax crayons.
“It’s getting late,” Anne replied, “It’ll be bedtime soon. C’mon honey, it’s a school night. You can’t stay up forever.”
“Okay mum,” Sammy said. He sighed and put the book and crayons on the coffee table. Like any eight-year-old boy, he didn’t really like