As a mother, and as a lover of fine words and stories, I will never grow weary of watching my children fall in love with reading and books.
This week I witnessed Susan’s relationship with books deepen.
We were at the library, and as chance had it (or maybe it was a God-ordained meeting?), our dear friends came in right behind us. This is the one family in our homeschool fellowship that my children adore, and I believe the feeling is mutual on their part. When we meet, there is much hugging, giggling and shouts of joy. Because we are both homeschooling families, we don’t see much of each other. Busy at home, busy with activities. So a spontaneous, accidental meet-up in the children’s section of the library is a lovely treat.
As I chatted with the mother, I noticed Susan and her friend kneeling on the floor, heads bent towards each other, in between the shelves. They were talking, sharing secrets about something, I was sure of it. I hoped it had to do with books. Usually when we go to the library, I suggest titles to my eleven year old. And she resists, unwilling to try all my old favorites and all the new titles that look appealing to me. Susan would get books about baking or collecting TY Beanie Babies, which is fine, I’m glad she’s interested in collecting and cooking. But what of the fiction? Why wasn’t she falling in love with all those characters I adored as a young girl?
I knew Susan’s friend loved fiction, her mother told me both her daughters read constantly. As I peeked around the bookshelf to watch the girls, I hoped my Susan was considering bringing home fiction this time.
Sure enough, when it came time to leave, Susan had selected several books in the Pony Club series, a Wishbone book and an American Girl title about a blond named Julie. Finally! I thought to myself.
Susan read during the drive home. I think she may have gone straight to her room to read when we got there. Needless to say, she did a lot of reading in a short period of time. Those were easy reads for her, but that’s not the point. For the first time, my girl was captured with an imaginary world found in fiction, so taken in that reading was the activity chosen above all other enticements (computer, a sibling, writing or play).
In two days, Susan had finished all her books and asked to go back to the library for more. We went and she took more books home. Again, Pony Club, American Girl and Wishbone. She read as we walked to the car.
Me again: Finally!
But the story doesn’t stop there.
Last night, the two of us were out for her 4H club meeting. The bookstore open late. Could we go? I’m never one to pass on an opportunity to be surrounded with the written word, and I want to encourage her, so we went.
And this time our visit was remarkably different.
Susan went straight to the juvenile fiction section, found City of Ember and embraced it like an old friend. No Pony Club this time. She said she wanted a “thicker chapter book.” Last night there was no plea for a Klutz book, what she usually wants; she’s crazy for the ones with the fill in the blank pages.
Right now, it’s almost 10:30 and she came out of her bedroom looking overtired. Susan fed the bunnies, ignoring food and Internet, and is now back in her bedroom, door shut. It’s a gray day and we have no plans to take us away from the house. I suspect she will be finished with her new book by nightfall.
It’s going to be a beautiful day.
