Every night my daughter rockets out of her room, pajama-clad, curls flying, and singsongs (at the top of her lungs):
IT’S TIME FOR STORYTIME!
The words run together and she throws her head back, cackles, and races back to her room hollering, “Chase me!”
Every night. Sometimes she wraps it all up with a tantrum. Other times she grabs my hands and climbs up the balance ball I use as a footstool, wobbling precariously, until she stands on top, takes a huge bounce, and lands on my lap knees first. Bedtime is a contact sport.
D puts on her pajamas, I read the stories. Routines are important to RR and while I tend to ramble about life in a different order every day, she has a prescribed order of activities with precise rules. Unfortunately, she maintains an eyes-only clearance on that list. We are not cleared for viewing. Enter: tantrums.
Eventually, she and I end up in position (it never, ever varies) and she picks a book to read. She has four preferred reads this month, Where the Wild Things Are, My Many Colored Days (both memorized), Cars and Trucks and Things That Go, and The Rainbow Goblins. While all of them are beautiful to look at, the latter two have so many words that I just don’t read them all.
That’s right. I skip things. Whole pages, entire paragraphs, extraneous descriptions. I knew I wasn’t the only one who did this – seriously, do ANY of you read Cars and Trucks and Things That Go? ALL of it? If you do, hold on, I’ll bake you some cookies. But I’m not the only one. Here you are, laugh away, this is exactly what goes on at my house:
Jason Good’s “Seminar: Methods for Shortening Books”
And, for Melanie, whose delicate sensibilities were offended by my scar arm, here is a recent, non-stitchy picture. Not a pretty healer, no. Be careful or I’ll include pictures of my scar neck, scar thigh, and scar ankle.