Every night when I put Robbie to bed, I read him one or two stories. Usually two if we're getting upstairs on time. One if we're running late. Occasionally we'll skip the stories if it's way past bedtime.
Robbie probably has 50 or more books on his bookshelf. But I bet we only read about 15 of them. We both really like the "How Do Dinosaurs" series -- How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?, How Do Dinosaurs Get Well Soon?, How Do Dinosaurs Go to School?
If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and all the books that follow are also favorites of ours. And one year for his birthday, we had a pancake theme going. We still love to read Mr. Wolf's Pancakes, Pancakes! Pancakes! and Hey, Pancakes!
But we don't agree on every book. I've been known to slide the original Curious George books under the bed before he can see them because they are too long. And then there was SkippyJon Jones.
When Robbie turned 5, a friend from preschool gave him the book SkippyJon Jones and the Big Bones. Robbie LOVED that book. Every night for weeks, he asked if we could read it. And I hated that book. Absolutely could not stand it.
First, I couldn't figure out if SkippyJon was a dog or a cat. I eventually figured it out, but the fact that there was a question annoyed me. Then there were all the voices and dialects that were in the book. It took so much energy to read. And I just could not read it any more.
But Robbie would ask for it every night. After a while, it became a big joke.
"Mom, let's read SkippyJon Jones and the Big..."
"NO! I can't do it!"
And he would laugh.
He still asks for it at least twice a week. And I still protest, telling him "Robbie, I haven't seen that book in a long time. I don't even know where it is."
Which is the truth. Because last summer, I snuck SkippyJon Jones and the Big Bones into the pile of books for sale at our garage sale. And I happily sold it for 50 cents to somebody's Grandma. So when I tell Robbie that I don't know where the book is, I'm not exactly lying, because I don't know who bought it or where she lives.
Then why do I feel so guilty when Robbie asks for it? And why am I sitting here with the Scholastic Books order form, about to order that stinkin' book that I hate, but my kid loves?
Robbie probably has 50 or more books on his bookshelf. But I bet we only read about 15 of them. We both really like the "How Do Dinosaurs" series -- How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?, How Do Dinosaurs Get Well Soon?, How Do Dinosaurs Go to School?
If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and all the books that follow are also favorites of ours. And one year for his birthday, we had a pancake theme going. We still love to read Mr. Wolf's Pancakes, Pancakes! Pancakes! and Hey, Pancakes!
But we don't agree on every book. I've been known to slide the original Curious George books under the bed before he can see them because they are too long. And then there was SkippyJon Jones.
When Robbie turned 5, a friend from preschool gave him the book SkippyJon Jones and the Big Bones. Robbie LOVED that book. Every night for weeks, he asked if we could read it. And I hated that book. Absolutely could not stand it.
First, I couldn't figure out if SkippyJon was a dog or a cat. I eventually figured it out, but the fact that there was a question annoyed me. Then there were all the voices and dialects that were in the book. It took so much energy to read. And I just could not read it any more.
But Robbie would ask for it every night. After a while, it became a big joke.
"Mom, let's read SkippyJon Jones and the Big..."
"NO! I can't do it!"
And he would laugh.
He still asks for it at least twice a week. And I still protest, telling him "Robbie, I haven't seen that book in a long time. I don't even know where it is."
Which is the truth. Because last summer, I snuck SkippyJon Jones and the Big Bones into the pile of books for sale at our garage sale. And I happily sold it for 50 cents to somebody's Grandma. So when I tell Robbie that I don't know where the book is, I'm not exactly lying, because I don't know who bought it or where she lives.
Then why do I feel so guilty when Robbie asks for it? And why am I sitting here with the Scholastic Books order form, about to order that stinkin' book that I hate, but my kid loves?
