Eight-year-olds are funny, contradictory creatures. Well, mine is anyway. She reads Goosebumps books, likes vampire dolls and loves the idea of zombies, even though Dad won’t let her see any movies containing them. And yet she still sleeps in Tinkerbell pyjamas and creates art installations with her soft toys at night. Who needs the Biennale when you can wake up to this?
housegoeshome 
what a treasure