Steven’s bedtime is 7:30 – 8 pm, which means he was up reading for at least two hours with his little book light. No wonder he is so tired in the morning!
Also – there is a perfectly working bathroom across the hall from the boys’ room, but they all insist on coming down the hall into our bathroom to go, particularly around bedtime. Hmmmm.
One of our favorite books is Betty Bunny Loves Chocolate Cake. Steve started to read it to Benjamin but inserted Ben’s name at first. Ben thought it was hilarious, but felt the need to clarify.
There are certain books that I could read over and over again to the boys. “Cock-A-Doodle Quack Quack,” “Bear Snores On,” “I’m Not Cute!” are just a few examples.
But books that have lame illustrations, use “easy reader” vocab, and don’t even rhyme on top of that?
Let’s say there are a few books that have very quietly slipped out the door.
Every. Single. Time. Ben is a serious chatterbox when he’s reading a book. I’m thinking he might be an external processor.
The other morning I had a hard time getting out of bed because I was groggy from medication, so by the time I got up, Benjamin was crying furiously in his crib. The poor guy hiccuped and sniffled as he tried to calm down, but once he was able to form any kind of coherent communication, his first words were literally “ree books.”
This comic follows “Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed.” I briefly tweeted about this situation with the hashtag #bookwormmomproblems. Benjamin is, as the old saying goes, his mother’s son.
And then all of a sudden it was 1 am!!
One does not simply walk into a library to “pick up a book.”
Actually – you are more than welcome to bother me, but I just might not pay attention to you.
I grew up in a family of readers. My older sisters would check out books from the library fifty at a time (I’m not exaggerating). My dad always had a book on-hand for when we had to wait in line somewhere. I remember my family being in the same room, doing our individual tasks, perhaps occasionally commenting on something or another, which is how I remember us spending time together. (The other main way we spent time together was by making food and eating it together.) My sisters went off to college the same year when I was eight years old, and without their energy and activities, I remember mostly being on my own, reading.
Steve grew up with memories of camping, fishing, playing sports, and watching TV. A typical Thanksgiving afternoon might include throwing a baseball outside interspersed with watching whatever games were on TV (and of course, munching on snacks and deviled eggs). The important thing was that everyone was together – together outside, together inside.
This comic illustrates some of what we’ve had to work through in our marriage as we came together from very different family cultures.