My Little Reader

“Oh, magic hour, when a child first knows she can read printed words!”

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith

My son will be three in October.  He loves to be read to.  He loves to memorize the words and “read” the books by himself; he loves to recite books in the car and in his bed, after the lights are out. 

Little things are starting to happen that make it clear to me that he is moving forward from memorized reading to actual reading, and because books are so dear to me, I find this process to be very emotional. 

A few minutes ago, my son walked up to my coffee mug.  On the mug, it says “All the flavor of New Orleans in a cup.”  He has never tried to read this before; it is unmemorized.  Here’s what went down. 
Boy – “All… the… faaaa”
Me – “Flavor.”
Boy – “All the flavor… of… New…”
Me – “Orleans.”
Boy – “All the flavor of New Orleans… in… a… aaa.”
Me- (Hard “C” sound)
Boy – “Cupa.”
Me- “Cup!  You did it!  You’re reading!”

If you imagine me sniffling and choking up throughout this exchange, then you have it about right.  Then, while I was still getting my emotions back in shape, my son wandered over to Maurice Sendak’s In The Night Kitchen and turned to his favorite page.  “MILK IN THE BATTER!” he shouted.  “MILK IN THE BATTER! WE BAKE CAKE! AND NOTHING’S THE MATTER!” And he laughed, and so did I, and then he jumped up an down a lot.

Because reading is AWESOME.


1 Comment

  1. That’s fantastic!

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