“He ran off to play with his new friends.” I close the book smiling at my daughters who are snuggled on either side of me. “Can we go play mommy?” my four-year-old inquires. I nod yes as they scamper off. We are at our local bookstore’s kids’ corner for a weekly date.
I began reading at an early age and love reading to my girls. My husband and I read to them when I was pregnant. I have written children’s books for them. Our shelves at home are bursting with books.
The weekly bookstore dates are a delight for the three of us. By mid-week if we have not gone my older daughter asks for it. Depending on the weather, we walk or drive to the store. As soon as we arrive we get snacks at the coffee shop next door and make our way through the store to the kids section. In the meantime, my eyes scan the shelves eager for the next read for me. While they are playing I get to scan the computer and make a list of what to look for when I get a moment to myself.
Spying on my two coloring or playing at the dollhouse, I realize it is not just about the gift of reading which benefits them their whole life, it is also the gift of time together. In a few short months my older child will be in full-day kindergarten. Our dear time together will be far and few between. Knowing I may have helped her with her reading skills makes me proud.
My youngest comes with another book to give me. In her other hand is her current favorite book, which she sits down beside me and opens. In her silent way of communicating, she gave me a book to read while she looks at the picture book.
I flip through the book she gave me and my heart swells. My wish is to carry on our reading time together. I love it when my four-year-old reads to me. Time is marching on and she will be reading silently on her own. I look forward to always looking at a book and remember our special times here. A part of my heart hopes she will remember too.