I own a library. Do not ask why. I’m such a wimp when it comes to books. I am addicted to books. I love bookstores, libraries and anything book related. It's a mutual love affair, just look at my bookshelves. We read books to our babies before they can talk. We start with cloth books that become slimy chew toys. Then, we move on to board books, which become soggy cardboard mush (fiber). Our babies beg to read in our laps and we've spent hours at a time combing page after page reading the words they often cannot yet understand.
“See Spot Run” or “ The Cat in the Hat” became favorite books that I now can read with my eyes closed. As babies grow older, we read bigger books such as “Charlottes Web” and “Mrs. Piggle Wiggle”. We read historical biographies and missionary stories. Stories that spark our imaginations and take us to places and times we could otherwise never know or go. Hour after hour, I sit on the couch with my kids lounging around me. I try hard not to fall asleep, and many times I’ve asked the kids to give me a minute to rest my eyes. Eventually somebody shakes me to see if I’m still alive. I wake-up and keep reading.
I love those days. The cuddly, toddler body snuggled in my lap as I take a 10-minute power nap in between chapters of “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”. The eight and 11 year-olds building Lego’s as I read adventure after adventure. We take a break and I go make a cup coffee and hot chocolate and then the reading-fest continues. I must be honest there are days, when I secretly wished my children could read to themselves. I wondered, if I could hire a professional "reader", so I could do something productive like a load of laundry or take a full nap.
How long the days seemed. Yet, the books cried out and I read on.
Our books are loved, slobbered, and chewed. Their bindings are broken and pages are dog-eared. What started out as beautiful picture book is missing pages that are tapped back into place. Proudly they adorn our shelves knowing they belong and they’ve been read and will be read again. Happy and tired these books sit in their baskets next to the beds waiting for their next venture with the grimy hands that will pick them out. Contentedly they rest, knowing they belong and are loved.
Turn off the TV (OK... you can do it after American Idol) and go grab a book and read it to your children. Keep turning the pages. Don't worry, the laundry isn't going anywhere and sleep is overrated. Read like there is no tomorrow. Work hard to make your books happy…
Happy books make happy children...and happy children who's imaginations are ignited and who's minds are alive and who's hearts burn are the children who will one day change the world.
Go read.
Elliot, 11 years
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Love that you have a blog! It's great!
ReplyDeleteThree days ago, I sat in my oldest daughter's home staring at an old sofa. She's almost 31 and she's planning to sell this old beater that we gave her and her husband a few years back. But, I want to make it into a shrine, because this was the sofa I sat on to read to my 4 children. I can close my eyes & see them, hear their laughter, feel their snuggles and remember how wonderful it was to raise them, homeschool them, be with them and READ to them. One daughter, who has made me promise not to reveal her name, made me read all the Little House books to her all through HIGHSCHOOL. We laid on the floor in front of the fireplace (when it was cold) or on my bed, when it wasn't, and I read, and read 'til the day she graduated. Keep reading, Kim, and keep loving those kids.....
ReplyDeleteThanks so much donna for the encouragment
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