Yesterday, T.R. reminded me to read to him and said, all on his own, that he wanted to read more. We’re going to make a point of doing it in the evenings, which is a habit we have fallen out of, at least in part because I have to go to bed early enough to get up at 4. (He should probably go to bed earlier, too, but I console myself with the idea that he’s learning about cause and effect. Or preparing for college life.)
I thought it was about to be over for a couple of reasons. One is that Syd cut me off from reading to him in sixth grade and he seems to set the expectations. And last week, T. had said he wanted to get to school earlier to spend more time with his friends. That time between when I drop Syd at the high school and T. gets out of the car at his school is the time we use for reading.
But now I know I have a little more time, a little more shared space to get into stories and talk about words and laugh. Today’s new word for T. was “encomium.” Yesterday it was “abattoir.” The dragon in the book we’re reading now has a childlike view of the world that when coupled with his immense size and appetite for whole sheep makes for amusing contrast. Good times.