What a joy...

The sheer thrill of walking into our eldest daughter’s room to have her look up with excitement from the book she was immersed in.  And the settled knowledge of realizing that allowing her the time she needed to grow into reading was very much the right choice…

The memories of our childhoods as we hear her say to her siblings, “Shhhh, I’m reading!”

Watching her meander in from the “5,” or realizing she isn’t meandering in from the “5” because she is so engrossed in her book she cannot put it down…

Realizing that everything I write or that is written by anyone, anywhere, she can now read…

Realizing “The Economist,” though a great magazine, might have to be hidden between the mattresses of our bed, the thinking family’s porn…

Then realizing she will read this blog post and know where I’ve hidden “The Economist,” so I can’t actually hide it between the mattresses…

Breathlessly waiting for the day she says to me, “Mom, you have to read this book.  You are going to love it.”  And I do, and she’s right, and we discuss the book for hours…

A lifelong love has been born.