Well I'm forty and some loose change years of age and I never, ever thought I'd be reading children's books again. I can't even remember reading them when I was a kid but Neil Gaimans 'are but aren't reeeeaaaally' children's books are an absolute delight, so much so, that I've bought all of them. There's gentle murmurs and mutters of darkness within and Gaiman is a master wordsmith that wraps you up in his stories, and its impossible to get out until the very end.
Fortunately, the Milk sees Father return slightly late from the shop with the vital life saving breakfast cereal milk and armed with legendary excuses of alien worlds and time travel. A thoroughly entertaining guilty pleasure that's kinda hidden from everyone who matters.