I am a pretty avid reader. I read a lot on the web, but I also finish a book every 2-3 weeks as well in my spare time, so it’s a hobby that is relaxing and keeps my mind razor sharp, even if my wit is a tad dull these days. But as much as I enjoy reading by myself, I would never call it fun. But reading with my sweet baby boy is some of the most fun I have throughout the week.
When he was first born, we were bound and determined to read to him as much as possible and tried to implement it as part of his bedtime routine. It was a success early as it gave us something to do while his lazy ass barely moved around, but then he got squirmy and more confident and books just weren’t doing it for him. I tried to power through, but all he wanted to do was eat the book, and there was a time where I thought I might never know what happened when Horton heard a Hoo.
So books faded a bit. We still tried to read when we could, but we didn’t do it as consistently.
Then towards his first birthday, he started showing more interest when we were reading to him, and right after his first birthday, he became enthralled with books. He will dig around, find the book he wants and hands it over to us to read. It’s really awesome. Now, we let him control the reading experience, and he likes to skip pages, but usually he’s searching for a specific page where he either really enjoys the illustrations or really enjoys the way we read it. Two of his favorite pages are when the Pout Pout Fish learns that he’s actually a Kiss Kiss Fish, and the letter V in the ABC’s of Metallica, because he starts screaming when I triumphantly shout, “If it’s too loud, YOU’RE TOO OLD.”
Now that it’s way more interactive, it’s one of my favorite daily experiences. He’ll scan through his stack of books, find the one he wants, hand it over to us to read, and sit there with his full attention. It’s fun for the both of us, and I even learned what happened to the Hoos.
Comments
No posts