Mister Finn has always been besotted with books. It is one of those traits that came with the genetic package of his person. People ask us how we taught him to love books, but I don’t think we did teach him; it’s like he already knew to love books.
He crawled rather late (10 months), so there were many glorious months when we could put him on the living room floor with a book and he would stay there, utterly engaged with it.
He would be happy if we read him books for hours at a stretch. Really.
*When he wakes up in the morning, Wifey goes and puts a stack of books in his crib. He excitedly plows through the stack, finds the one he wants, and then “reads” for 40 minutes. Then he fusses and she puts another stack in, and goes for another 40 minutes. He’s done this for several months, and still does.
(*please don’t hate us)
He turns the pages one at a time and points at the pictures, “reading” the story aloud. There are some words from the actual story mixed with his own language in a continuous song-like oration.
When he’s really interested in something, he does this thing with his mouth: it gets kind of pursed, or focused, and he moves it sort of like he’s eating.
He cradles the books with his legs and holds them steady with his feet.
He goes in his room and shuts the door behind him, and pulls all his books off his shelves. Then he sits on top of them while he reads.
I’m assuming he has an amazing memory (and not that he can actually read) because as he brings us books to read him, he’s saying the title.
Often when he’s not even reading, he’s reciting to himself an entire story from one of his books.
There is no time or place unsuitable for reading a book. Also, any occasion is made better by reading a book.
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (his current favorite) sounds like: “Azenda Tebble, Hohble, Nuh Guh, Veh Bah Day.”
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