By the time it comes to this hour, I don’t want to think, I don’t want to do anything. So I end up quickly throwing a few words together to get it done.
One of my favorites is when Jemma backs up and plops into my crossed legs, as I’m sitting on the floor, so we can read. I am her living chair. With her sound effects and her little legs making their way, she makes herself comfortable and we read. “Buk,” she says as she picks each one after the other and I read.
She might be upset and want something that I won’t let her have and I’ll say, “let’s go read,” and she changes focus and runs to her room all pleased, to where her shelf of books is. She’s my little reader. At the table, on the changing table, on her walks. She studies flyers and pamphlets, pointing her little finger at the words. She will stop at every post and sign and point, “reading.” And that is OK with me.