I have reached another wondrous milestone in parenting. Yes, the kid is learning to read (and write, but that’s another post). He has always loved books, often choosing them as a good-behaviour treat, but learning to read has instilled a new enthusiasm for all things books. I have never been more excited.
The sheer joy on his face as he spells out and reads a word is priceless. When we’re out and about, he will point to words he knows and spell out everything. It really is magical.
I can’t help but be excited at the prospect of all the books we can read together in the future. I have already dug out my old Roald Dahl box set from my dad’s loft and have been busy on Amazon finding old favourites. Throughout my life, books have played a huge part. They entertained me when I was ill, provided escape when I was being bullied and inspired me. To this day, there is nothing I like better than a good book.
Already, his attention span has grown enough for me to read him longer bedtime stories, spreading them out over two nights. He remembers and talks about the stories and characters and getting him into bedThe time when we can snuggle up with The Chronicles of Narnia is so close I can almost taste it.
Heres to years of reading, and hoping he never grows too old for a bedtime story.