Monday, November 9, 2015

Reading Out Loud

Joseph decided the books I choose to read aloud to Elizabeth are lacking. It's not that they're bad books, he assures me. It's just, well, they're little kid books and Elizabeth told him she wants something a little heavier, a little more grown up, a little more Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

It's okay, they both rush to tell me. It's okay that I choose books about puppies and little houses on a wide prairie. Those are good books, too. It's just, well, she wants to read funny books.

Don't be sad, they tell me. I can still read her books about kittens and queens and fairies flitting around the garden. But maybe, for a little while - just until they finish the series - maybe Joseph can read to her in the evenings.

Not that they don't love it when I read to her, they comfort, but, well, it might be cozy to lay on the top bunk and read cuddled up together.

So I putter around the kitchen in near silence, Joseph's voice raised a bit to reach me. I listen to the stories, the funny, silly stories he reads in fully, silly voices. Unlike when I read to her, Elizabeth never interrupts, never questions, never stops him so she can go get a drink of water.

I peek in, spying them snuggled under blankets gilded by the circle of light from the lamp. Elizabeth's eyes are glued to the page, her head resting on Joseph's chest. Did you hear that, Mama, Joseph asks. Did you hear how funny this story is?

I do. It's a great story.

If you want to listen, you can, he invites.

So I sit on the floor and lean my head against the bedroom wall. I close my eyes and listen to the adventures unfold in his little boy voice. I listen as he reads for a half hour, ever night, without once pausing for more than to make sure we're both still awake. I listen to the rise and fall of the words, the fluidity of the story. And then, like an internal alarm has gone off, he stops, sliding a Pokemon card to hold his spot in the book.

She never complains or asks him to read more, merely slides off his chest and wraps her arms and legs around him. I'll just read for a half hour while she sleeps, if that's okay, Mama. My book, this time.

Of course, it's okay. Of course.

I kiss her goodnight and whisper her dreams in her ears. I walk out as he opens the thick paperback that is too old for him.

"I live in a book and eat up all the characters." - Joseph

2 comments:

John said...

Having kids as close together as mine are, we don't get the "big sibling/little sibling" thing. Which is a shame, because I actually think CJ would really enjoy "the funny" books to his sister.

julie gardner said...

This makes my mother's heart so happy, Mandy.

I know it's not the same, but my son is a senior with his college applications completed and his sister is a junior, only one year behind him. She says she wants to go wherever he goes.

Tuesday he heard from Washington State. He's in.
She is almost as excited as he is even though it's not either of their first choices.

Still. They are thinking about their futures. They are planning to stay close.
It's the best thing. Ever.

The best.