Easter Sunday 2010

Easter Sunday morning came early.  Our two little cherubs don't like to sleep late now that the birds have begun their springtime chirping again in northern Illinois.  The Easter Bunny was good to everyone, hiding copious amounts of chocolate (and peanut butter!) around the living room.  Miss Rosie crawled around on the floor to find her first Easter eggs, and The Talker skittered, near-crazed with excitement, from egg to egg, collecting anything he could get his hands on.

Funny, though: he found a peanut butter egg today when he took the chair cushion off to make a mini-fort.  He was very proud of himself.  Luckily he put it on the kitchen table and walked away for a moment, so I was able to sneak that Reeses-crack up into his Easter basket.  For safe-keeping, you know.  (Or until The Runner or I get a craving...those things are dangerous!)

Another dangerous fact: The Talker can read.  Most of you know this already, but here he is, looking like he's 17, leaning on the table, reading the note from E. Bunny.  Mr. Bunny has whirly handwriting, too, which I think is hard to read, but The Talker doesn't think so.  And Rosie, well, she pretty much thinks anything The Talker does is hilarious and fun.  Even when he's sitting on her.  More on that next time.

Bye, Bye Bedtime Story

Like so many families, part of our bedtime routine involves reading a few stories. For the last four years we have read Mr. T some terrific books - and loved every minute of it. Lately, though, he's gotten into dinosaurs and mammals, and he's more interested in reading reference guides on the topics than listening to stories. This is somewhat annoying for my husband & I, mainly because reading a dinosaur encyclopedia out loud can be embarassing. When your child can pronounce the names of the creatures flawlessly - and corrects you every few sentences - the reading roles have officially reversed!

To our advantage - most of the time - our little guy can already read. Okay, okay, you're thinking: Yeah, right! But seriously, the kid can read. Proficiently. Other than read to him - and talk about sounds here and there - we did absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to encourage this habit. He just figured it out, and gets better at it every day. We have mixed feelings about this - it's certainly impressive that he can read already, and it's also great to know that he won't struggle with the process of learning in school. BUT...it also means we can't sneak much by him. The age-old parental tactic of spelling is worthless. We've discussed becoming a bilingual parental team (pig latin or gibberish: I am fluent!), but it hasn't caught on just yet.

Last night's bedtime was a shocker. He jumped right into bed, rolled over on his tummy, and whipped out his Atlas of the World book. With his characteristic I-can-do-it-myself face, he put up his little hand as if to wave me off and said, "I can read to myself tonight, Mom."

I wanted to cry! I did not expect my little fella to want to read alone before bed until he turned 12! (Okay, maybe 10?) That snuggle time at the end of the day is important to my husband and I - it erases all the frustrations and power struggles that come with parenting a four year old boy in the dead of winter in Chicago. I stubbornly told Mr. T that he could read alone for 10 minutes, but that I was going to read him a short story after that.

Stubborn and selfish? Maybe. But I don't care. I have to believe that he needs that little cuddle before bed, too. Even if he doesn't know it.