Reading to my Child

"Mama, will you read this to me?" Hoping against hope that it's a Little Critter book, or even better, a book about Jesus, I take a look at his offering ~ USKids History: Book of the American Civil War. Great. This child has accomplished what several teachers in my lifetime were never able to: Reading about and discussing history. Mr. Lachapelle would be proud. Reading to my children has been a joy to me for as long as I could remember. To this day I have every single letter's poem in the Dr. Seuss's ABC book memorized because it was Alex's favorite book for so long. Test me. Throw a letter at me the next time you see me. I'll recite! I remember hearing him use the word 'actually' at the mere age of two while reading a book that called a piece of machinery a 'snort'. My mind still echoes with the sweet little voice saying 'Actually, dat's a back-o (backhoe)'. I was thrilled when Kensley allowed me to read every single 'Little House' chapter book to her. Sharing my favorite childhood series with my daughter was a treasure! Even better, the following year we were blessed with a cross-country trip, which included a stop in Minnesota, at one of the Ingall's homeplaces. Never mind the subject of the book; what really matters is that for quite a while, that little boy will be cuddled close to me. In my arms, he will fold his long, thin body parts to accomodate my short frame. I know, more now than ever, to cherish these moments. I know he will grow older, would rather read his own books than to have my voice stumble along the general's names and battle's sites. I know it will soon be way too uncool to cuddle this close to me, even though he may want to still. I know that these moments are blessings, that God has given to me more than I could ever hope to ask.