1. Jumping up and down.
2. Indeterminate happy yipping-type noises.
3. Running around in circles with it raised aloft like an Olympic torch shouting, ‘A BOOK! A BOOK! I MADE A BOOK!’
4. Sliding of cheek up and down smooth glossy front cover.
5. Paper sniffing.
6. Stroking and tilting to make gold shiny bits catch the light.
7. Genuine moment of wondering whether might be possible to carry book forever/wear it/have it implanted onto shoulder or against forehead as permanent ‘LOOK AT THIS BOOK!’ fascinator/parrot type accessory.
8. Shouting ‘LOOK, LOOK, LOOK AT THIS BOOK!’ instead to family, cat, passers by, friends and strangers on the Internet.
9. Calming down a bit (but only a bit) and actually reading book.
10. Noticing, again but properly because they’re on nice paper, how properly BRILLIANT the illustrations are and firing off emoji filled and thoroughly incoherent text of joy to Clara Vulliamy*
(*this stage probably only applies if your illustrator IS Clara Vulliamy)
11. Noticing the odd word which you would in retrospect have changed or placed differently… pausing… pursing lips…
12. Giving yourself a firm talking to to stop noticing and resume jumping, clasping and shrieking.
13. Later, reading book to children for first time and being examined very precisely on previously unconsidered details culminating in a sliding-downstairs-on-tummies-race to properly assess whether the sound a tapir makes in that situation can be accurately written as ‘SHHLOMF-A’ ‘SHHLOMF-A’ ‘SHHLOMF-A’*
(*this stage probably only applies if you have written a scene involving a tapir sliding down stairs)
14. Graciously accepting your children’s grudging acknowledgement that that definitely IS the sound a tapir’s tum makes on stairs.
15. Over next few days, forgetting you have your first copy of your first book briefly, then remembering, then leaping up to grab it and start again from 1.
It’s been a slightly over-excited few days here…