“Psst,” he whispered. “If you eat one more hat, I shall teach you to knit your own.”
And that, you see, is why my father is fantastic. He does not fight monsters with swords or shouting. He fights them with whispers, with nonsense, with un-boiled eggs and knitted socks. my dad is fantastic roald dahl pdf
I hear whispering. I hear a giggle—and it is not my father’s giggle. Then I hear a small, wet voice say, “Oh! Oh, I see! Well, why didn’t you say so?” “Psst,” he whispered