My mom gave me a paper bag full of books. They were my favorites when I was little, held back from garage sales and stashed away. Waiting for me to claim them.
I eagerly brought them home, lugging the bag into the boys room, giddy with excitement to share my beloved books with them. As we sorted through the pile, I began to realize we had duplicates. Many of my childhood favorites were already on the boys shelves because I had remembered and bought them. Where The Wild Things Are, There's An Alligator Under My Bed, What Do You Do With A Kangaroo? And of course there were the ones I had forgotten. The Wind In The Willows, The Serendipity Books, Bonny's Big Day.
It was a trip back in time for me, and a new adventure for my boys. I love to read. And I want nothing more for my kids to share that love of reading. I'll admit I'm harbouring a bit of frustration with The Monster. He's not picking up on it as quick as I thought he would, and he doesn't seem to enjoy it one bit. I don't want him to fall into that clique of boys are better at math, blah blah blah. Although he is quite skilled with numbers, I want him to be well rounded. I tried to explain that learning to read opens doors everywhere. That is is the most amazing skill to possess. He doesn't quite believe me there. Ninja skills seem to be higher up on his list.
If you find yourself this holiday season, searching for a last minute gift for a spouse, a child, a sister, a friend, a neighbor, or a babysitter, just buy a book. You can't go wrong with the written word.