Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.
“Coloring Outside The Lines, Raising a smarter kid by breaking all the rules” by Roger Schank
Eden and I have gotten into a nice little routine at the library. We head to the kids’ room and she will choose a pile of books for me to read to her. Our reading spot of choice is this hideous double seater glider. The design is terrible, the cushion is vinyl and even the color blue is repugnant, but baby, it has a smooth glide. It almost feels like swinging. We sit close together and I read book after book. I can tell you without braggery that I am an excellent reader. Since I could read I have been able to “With Expression!” as Miss Bristol, my first and second grade teacher commended me long ago.
I usually keep it calm, though. Years ago, when Christopher was but a wee lad, his teacher would visit us at home to help me learn how to teach him throughout the day, to make our whole life about teaching him to hear and speak. Basically she coached me on playing with my kid or making routine chores a learning opportunity.
Once, in the very beginning, I was reading a book to him and he was batting at the pages, turning them quickly so that I hurried to read the text. I wasn’t aware I was racing him, I always was.
“Don’t let him bully you.” The teacher said, then took the book from me and began to read it in this calm and slow but energetic voice. Christopher was mezmerized. She read the text and then also made sounds that corresponded to some of the different illustrations. You have probably read “Goodnight Moon” a million times, but did you ever hold your hand out to the fire, then pull it back quickly and almost hiss, “Hot!”? At first I took notes, in the books, paraphrasing the text to use Christopher’s most basic language to make it meaningful and interesting to him. Soon I could do it on my own and eventually I didn’t know how not to do it. Both my hearing girls loved all the ways I brought the books to life and their precocious vocabularies showed it, they still do.
At first, it was hard to play in front of Christopher’s teacher. It felt silly, making car, plane, train or truck sounds, but soon the awkwardness wore off and then, like the reading, I stopped noticing what I did. You give me a kid and some toys, we are going to make some sounds, because everything makes one.
When Eden and I read together in the library, I prefer it when we are alone as it’s more peaceful, but I don’t let it cramp my style when others are around. If it’s children, invariably they will come and lurk over my shoulder. I welcome them to look at the pictures, but when one child tried to start thrusting her selections at me, I drew the line and asked her who had brought her to the library. This is exclusive time for Eden and me, most always.
Last week, Ren was visiting when we made a trip. The two little girsl each chose a pile of books. One of them chose a Dora book. I usually ban books based on T.V. shows because the illustrations are so poor and the writing is abysmal and so long, but occasionally I’ll acquiesce. I read the book and it was OK. Dora is constantly asking questions and I like pulling out a Spanish accent, so we’re all busy. This particular book ende with Dora finding a wishing star and making a wish, of course she asked her readers what they wished.
I waited for the girls to answer. Ren looked at Eden, who sat up and leaned forward, “I wish that all the people in the world would love each other…and die on the cross.” She said softly, squinting furiously.
“Wow!” I said and then turned to Ren.
She looked up at me wrinkling her funny little nose, “I just want flipflops!”
I happened to know that a little pair of flip flops was sitting in my front entry, waiting to be taken home by her; one wish was already granted.
We’re still waiting on that world peace and mass crucifixion.
I just completed a weeklong fast from reading. It wasn’t for spiritual reasons – directly – or I’d be keeping in on the D.L. I did it as an exercise for a class I am taking.
I never got the shakes, but I felt a definite pang at bedtime and the morning…and the minute the kids were in bed…and while I was waiting for anyone to do anything. The first seriously dark moment was several days in when I woke at two in the morning and realized I had insomnia and couldn’t read my way out of it.
I prayed.
Another difficult passage was when I took the kids to the library. Walking through the doors I wondered what I could possibly do while they were about their business.
I read to and talked with Eden.
And then there was that moment where I was feeling all, “This isn’t so bad…I’m keeping busy…it ain’t nuthin but a thing…” or something equally cocky and unintelligible…and then I remembered that I had two more days to go and swooned.
Several years ago I realized that I was addicted to reading. A small bell started ringing as I noticed my pattern, when Paul was on business trips, of going to the librairy, stocking up on books and devouring them within a few days. There were a couple of things going on there: I was combatting loneliness and fear. If I was reading I didn’t have to turn out the light. I knew there was something in my noticing but I really didn’t like to think about what I ought to do with it. Around that time I was talking to an acquaintance from church about something and she mentioned a weekly meeting she attended. I asked her what it was.
“Over Readers Anonymous,” she said.
I froze. Denial was over. I had no idea they had a 12 step, but if anyone was an Over Reader I knew I was.
And then I realized she had said, “Overeaters” and slowly began to breathe again.
That was a different story all together.