Why We Read

Seems obvious, right? But since we've started this new reading kick as a way to connect at the end of the day, I can't believe that I - the most compulsive reader I know (except, maybe, for my mother) - wasn't already doing this. Sure, we read every night, but it was getting to the point where I was hoping she would only pick 3 books (or fewer), short ones, so that I could curtail the long goodnight. But, now, picking out books to see what stories they bring up for us to talk about after, I'm amazed at the connections she's making and her willingness to talk about stuff she usually doesn't. Last night, we read a whole slew of books, including Appelemando's Dreams. It's a book about a boy whose dreams become pictures in the sky for his friends. They live in a town where everything is "drab" and the dreams - painted on the sky - get the boy and his friends in trouble. We finished the book - and Sadie jumped up out of bed, saying that Appelemando reminded her of someone, she ran to the bookshelf and grabbed Cherries and Cherry Pits. We read that, and then talked about color, and making stories, and about needing stories when your regular life is hard, or drab. Now my tendency would have been to push this further, immediately jump to what about her life is hard or drab, but I'm learning to let the opening just sit there, knowing that we are in for a longer conversation, one that will take years, and we don't have to have it all now.