Books

When we first got home, the boys had little interest in books other than as objects of destruction. They would throw them. They would tear out pages and rip off peek-a-boo flaps, but they would not let me read them.

Some time in July, after daily attempts at "reading" that usually ended in frustration, they discovered this book. It was a turning point and a life line. We read it over and over and over again. We recited it in lines to pass the time and we quoted our favorite parts to get  through scary doctor's visits. It turned bed time from a festival of tears into an enjoyable activity. In many ways I think it bridged the communication gap we were all struggling to get over.

These days our floors and tables and beds are littered with books. We read in the morning before going downstairs for breakfast, before naptime on days when I work from home and, of course, before bed at night. I read to them and they read to me and to each other. Scratch and sniff and peek-a-boo flap books, once without a chance of survival, have become the new favorites. Each week I comb through stacks, previously set aside because they were too advanced, only to find that there are very few books left in those stacks. We read this book for the first time last week. Am I the only one who has a hard time getting through that one without holding back tears?

When I imagined being a parent, reading was one of the things I imagined most, and it is such joy to have arrived at this place. Santa needs some recommendations...what books do your kids love?