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She doesn't mind reading him the fairytales or tales of hobbits or the adventures of Robin Hood, because quite honestly, it's nice to live a second childhood through her little brother who is still young enough for bedtime stories, but sometimes, when he demands she make something up instead of reading aloud, or when he makes absent remarks about goblins, she gets a little nervous.
He can't remember, she knows he can't, because years after the event, it's even become a little hazy in her own mind, like a dream fading slowly to nothing over time.
But it's real and she knows it, never more so than when she walks into her little brother's room tonight, armed with a new book and a determination to stick to it, and catches Toby telling his teddy bear with the mismatched eyes; 'You remind me of the babe.'