Reading
My heart leapt as I watched and listened to my son puzzle out the words on the page. I watched his face twist as he found the words. I saw his little fingers trace the letters, first above and then below. I listened as short ‘O’s became long ‘O’s and vice versa. He listened as I tried to shake a few common rules out of the English language.
I didn’t expect to be so excited about red fish and blue fish. Certainly, I’ve read it before. There are sad fish and glad fish. I know how it goes. I have an idea how it ends.
Reading is something that comes out in fits and starts. It’s a true learned skill, something that the five year old rarely has to wrestle. Books are often met with interest and enthusiasm. Reading, however, has its moments of victory and frustration. It doesn’t come easy or, at least, it doesn’t come without trials. Luckily, I’m a parent of little boy who isn’t about to give up, a little boy who senses that he’s getting it, and a little boy who couldn’t be more proud to read to his little brother.
As I sat down on the floor today with my two boys on my lap and a book in my hands, my heart leapt on a little on each word. It wanted to force each word from his lips. I hoped it would stay in my chest.
