To Eliot and Sisi, the living room rug was just a piece of blue wool, but to their son Leo, it was a vast, rolling ocean of indigo waves.
The parents were in a thundering hurry, stomping their heavy boots as they hunted for a lost silver spoon.
Every giant step they took made the coffee-table mountains shake and the blue yarn-forest tremble with fear.
Leo stood as still as a stone, watching his parents cause a woolly earthquake.
He knew that when you rush like a storm, the tiny magic of the world hides itself away in the shadows.
