I’m a little disturbed by just how easy I’m finding it to write from the viewpoint of a six-year-old. I’d expected sleepless nights, much unsatisfying rewriting and handfuls of ibuprofen just to keep the headaches at bay. Not so. It’s actually proving to be a liberating and refreshing experience — the challenge of communicating a child’s strange (but, ultimately, oddly understandable) logic without going overboard lending my writing a degree of vitality that I haven’t felt for a while.
I suspect I’m going to come away from this with a renewed respect for children.
Now, where did I put my Space Dust?