The minute after a story is the best minute of the day for talking to a child. The lights are low, the story has given them something to think with, and there is no rush. One good question there does more than a dozen at the dinner table. The trick is in the kind of question.

Questions that work

Ask about the child, not the story. "Tala felt nervous about the water but jumped anyway — when did you feel nervous but try?" reaches a child in a way that "why did Tala jump?" does not. The story is the excuse; the child's own day is the subject.

Ask something with no right answer. "Which animal would you be?" "What would you have done?" "What was the kindest thing anyone did today?" A question a child can get wrong is a test, and tests wake people up.

Ask one. Then listen, and let the silence be long. A child who is given room will often say something surprising; a child who is asked three things in a row will say "I don't know" to all of them.

A handful to keep in your pocket

For a story about an animal: "What would you do if you were her?" For a story about someone brave: "When were you brave today, even a little?" For a story about a place: "Would you like to go there? What would you bring?" For a true story: "What is the one thing you want to remember about that?" And for any story at all, the one that never fails: "What was your favourite part?" — followed by nothing, so they can tell you.

If your child never answers

Some children do not talk at bedtime, and pressing them makes it worse. Ask the question anyway, once, and answer it yourself: "I think I would have been scared of the water too." You are showing what the question is for, not testing whether they will use it. Weeks later, often out of nowhere, an answer arrives. Children keep the questions longer than they let on.

Questions to avoid at bedtime

Anything that checks comprehension. Anything that opens a worry — tomorrow's test, the thing that happened at school — unless the child opens it first. Anything that starts a negotiation. The question is a door, not a lesson, and it should be one a child can walk through in a sentence and then go to sleep.

Why every story here ends with one

Each DreamStories story closes on a single line to talk about — written for the story, and phrased about the listener. A story about a hummingbird crossing the sea by the stars ends by asking who the child trusts to show them the way. It is there to be read aloud, in your voice, and then left to hang in the dark for a moment.

Some nights the child will answer and some nights they will be asleep before the end of it. Both are fine. The question is not there to be answered every night; it is there so that on the night a child has something to say, the door is already open.