Every Monday night Ian comes home with two new books that he checked out at the library that day. This week he brought home two books from the “Fly Guy” early reading series so he could “practice his reading,” he told us. I noted (to myself) that this was a great improvement over last week when he brought home some Star Wars chapter book that looked like it was for a teenager. I digress.
So, last night I casually pointed to the books as I passed by and told Ian we’d have to sit down with them “soon.” Translated: I don’t want to do it right now, but it’s on my good-mother-to-do list. At which point he said, “Well, I’m already on chapter three of this one!” “Oh, did you read some while you were in the library?” “Yeah,” he says. Okay, I thought. That’s nice.
Then…wait a second…that’s more than nice. You read! A book! On your own! “Ian,” I said, “I think that’s the first time that you’ve sat down and read something all by yourself, isn’t it?” A big smile engulfs his entire face: “Yes! It is!” He was so impressed with himself that a few minutes later he apparently decided he no longer needed me. He plopped down with the book and began reading out loud to us on his own.