But half way through the process, Mickey pokes out, now wearing a dough pilot suit and points out their mistake ('I'm not the milk and the milk's not me! I'm Mickey!'), before jumping onto some bread dough, molding it into a plane and taking off, leaving the bakers below shouting desperately for milk for the morning cake. Mickey falls from his bed through the dark, out of his clothes and into a huge bowl of batter in a noisy night kitchen where three fat Oliver Hardy faced bakers mistake him for milk, mix him in batter and pop him in the oven to bake him into a 'Mickey cake'. In the Night Kitchen is an account of a little boy's dream. It has never once gone out of favour (other books of his have periods of glory followed by periods of ostracism before usually returning to glory, depending on shifting moods and interests and a natural attraction to the pile of newly arrived books). We got this for our son before he was two and it has been a favourite with him (and us) ever since. In our case at least, this enthusiastic reaction was immediate from adults and child alike.
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