My 19-month-old son Leo has already learned something about the power of literature. He likes nothing better than a good session of page turning first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I'm keen to encourage this in principle, but not, I must admit, at 6.00am. Leo has learned to overcome my reluctance by simply throwing his literary selection du jour at my head until I rouse myself and read with him. These are not soft, fluffy cloth books we're talking about, but picture books with hard covers, thick cardboard pages and lethal corners. Screams of pain and terror have no effect. For Baba (my ID as far as Leo is concerned) it is a choice of sore eyes or black eyes.I can't wait until he's old enough for paperbacks.
1 comment:
hahahahaha thats so cute
when i turned one year old, my parents video taped the party, and i guess the next day they had spare tape left to kill: so they filmed me on the floor, playing, eating, etc.
problem was i was sort of sick, so they put me on a couch and i started to cry and fuss.
they were chucking toys at me to make me stop (they were filming this remember!) but i wouldn't.
finally, i put my hand behind me, down the couch, and pulled out a book.
and began to "read".
and stopped crying.
go me.
book nerd from 1 year old.
lol
:D
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