‘The night Max wore his wolf suit.’ I can’t tell you how many times Man of the House and I read those words to No 1 Son when he was little. Where The Wild Things Are was his absolute favourite book at bedtime (until he was old enough to tell us he wanted to read by himself). Of course, I didn’t read it as well as Daddy, who made the most fantastic monster noises for those pages where there were no words (when the wild rumpus had started). He and No 1 Son would sit there making growly sounds at each other and it was just wonderful to listen to.
Imagine our delight then when we visited San Francisco and discovered there was a WHOLE PLAYGROUND and GIFT SHOP dedicated to Where The Wild Things Are. Sadly it’s long gone but the memories of playing there will stay with No 1 Son forever, as will Maurice Sendak’s wonderful book.
RIP Maurice Sendak, you gave the world an incredible gift.