"Guess what we're making today," I asked, lifting him up to the table.
John surveyed the googly eyes and feathers laid out in front of him and said without hesitation "monsters!"
And so, with no prompting at all from me, and no help whatsoever, John made monsters. Big ones and baby ones. Ones with feathers and ones with spots and ones that went "boom, boom, boom!" towards me.
The results were spectacular.
And it was the perfect activity for my own little spotty monster, who is handling chicken pox in his own easy-going way, with a lot of sleep, a cheery smile and just the occasional itch.