Thursday June 16, 2011
It began with cloth books my son could chew on. I’d tuck one in the corner of his crib once he fell asleep, hoping he’d find it and be entertained for a few moments before he called for me.
We graduated to board books, and Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things That Go was a huge favorite. He and his brothers after him all giggled at banana cars and apple cars. There was so much to see in those books!
I looked for books that boys would love and found chunky board ones with wheels, shaped like firetrucks. They loved them; they played, made siren sounds, and begged for the story.
One of Mom’s laptime favorites? Is Your Mama a Llama.
"Is your Mama a llama? I asked my friend Rhonda." "I think not, is how Rhonda responded."
I loved the rhyme, and the boys did, too.
The Very Lonely Firefly by Eric Carle is remembered to this day by “boys” of 19 and 20 years old. The illustrations, the story, and oh, the anticipation as they waited for that last page full of twinkling fireflies.
Every night, several times a day, often in the car – books, books, books. There was nothing grander. Of the four boys, only the youngest is still a teen (barely), and they’re all still readers. Different kinds of readers, but they still love a good story and great information. And they think, and they talk about what they read. I love it.
I love a good book, and I guess I must have passed it on.
And a boy with a book? Nothing grander.
Linking up with Hope Is the Word today with a retrospective Read Aloud Thursday post. Good memories!