The other day Josh called to Aubrey that she needed to come in the kitchen and unload the dishwasher. She was in the living room on the couch and when he called her she didn't move. So he stepped closer and firmly asked her again to come and unload the dishwasher.
She continued to sit there, book in her lap, eyes staring blankly out the window.
Now getting frustrated, he forcefully called to her one more time.
That's when she looked up at him with a face full of mourning and said, "Sorry, Dad. One of the characters from my book just died and I'm not ready to face the world just yet."
He could have yelled at her, he could have scolded her, he could have reminded her that these characters are fictional and that their death has pretty much zero bearing on life as we know it.
But her father, an avid reader, having been in that situation himself on several occasions, just nodded and told her to take a minute. The dishes could wait a bit.
And that made me smile.
Because I love that I have a family that loves books and is completely enamored with reading.
The next day, I came across this little jewel.
Further evidence of my children's addiction to reading, this image shows the book being read by my ten year old. He was told he had to take a shower. He argued that he was reading. We said, tough luck, you can read after but a shower is a required element.
So, nose still plugged into the pages, he meandered into the bathroom, but now with no bookmark he installed the book on the towel rack until he could dry off and get back to it (we did have a chat about how a square of toilet paper makes a more appropriate placeholder than a towel rack).
We do love our paperback friends around here (but we are not biased against hard covers either...both are fabulous).
I was glancing around as I started this post this morning and thought how untidy things sometimes look because most of our shelves are bursting with as many volumes as we can get onto them (see below).
But that is life the way we like it. I love my printed roommates and being surrounded by them is comforting to me. They are fabulous and it warms my heart that my children find warmth in their friendship as well.
Seriously, I adore these biblio babies of mine. I love their smell and I love their feel in my hands. I love the sound of pages rustling and I love letting my mind run free through their liquid language.
I love that fluttery little chirp of, "Mom, can we have a story time?" Any excuse to bury my face in a picture book with one of my littles snuggled into my lap is a great thing to me. I am 37 years old and I still relish any reason at all to revel in a story or a fairy tale.
This is a love affair I hope I never get over.
Books: good stuff, Maynard.