James tried again.
“Well, it’s like we skip an hour, and we go forward. So 8 in the morning is really 9.”
“But why?” His 3-year-old son Liam trotted out his new favourite phrase.
“Because…”. James trailed off, scrambling for a reason that would quieten the insatiable curiosity of childhood. Liam looked up at him expectantly, tilting his head to one side, mimicking their pet labrador.
“Well,” he said, a story forming in his head, “a long time ago in a faraway land, there lived a little boy just like you and he wore a special sparkly green hat and purple boots and he had a red backpack.”
“One day,” he continued “the little boy wanted to stay up past his bedtime. So he was very naughty and went around changing back all the clocks in the entire land so that he had an extra hour of the day when it was lighter and he didn’t have to go to bed. The next day, all the people woke up and were confused because they couldn’t work out where the hour had gone.”
“And so,” he said, plumping a pillow and placing Liam’s teddy bear on it beside him, “the mystery of the lost hour began. Every year on that same night, the people of the land would change their clocks just like the little boy had, and we continue to do so today”.
Temporarily satisfied, Liam was quiet for a moment.
“But why…” Liam began, “did he wear a green hat?”.
“That,” James said with a sigh, “is a story for another time”.
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