Another birthday, another set of reads to enter the house.
Some were chosen (yes, guilty as charged) and intimated to family; others were chosen by Junior Reader (who initially believed that the book token had been sent by Bramble the dog).
All good so far. When the book: other present ratio reaches something like 50:50, this feels quite a momentous point.
So is trying to keep up with the solo reading going on.
Dan and I are both in the same position just now. We introduced Junior Reader to a book (or more) each in a particular series; birthday books added more to both series.
And now Junior Reader has shot ahead and read both books. (In fact, almost – Dan caught the book for ‘his’ series before it was completed. I went off to help at an event at school, and came back to find the book in ‘my’ series already finished.)
Should you, gentle reader, need to know what the spoils were:
My series: Mr Gum and the Goblins (Andy Stanton)
Dan’s series: Who Could That Be at This Hour? (Lemony Snicket)
There are many things we have to let go of, as parents. The points where a child can feed themselves independently; can put their own shoes and coat on.
The point when they can be off on their own with friends, and not be worried about where you are. The point where they can stay over at someone else’s house without you. And so on.
To which we now add: reading books without parental involvement.
I remind myself that Junior Reader has been doing this for a few months now, since the jump to light speed (I mean, the jump to chapter books). And when these are re-reading what either parent has already read, that’s OK.
So too is reading new books which neither parent feels as much of a need to read for themselves, that too is OK. (I love children’s literature, lots of it, but not everything interests me in the same way. Which is fine, because I am no longer 7.)
But zooming through the official parental reads…hmm. Luckily Junior Reader is still very happy to be read to – we may just have to come to an agreement on what is reserved for joint consumption.
Thinking about this post today, I remembered some lines at the end of one of the Just So Stories, describing a separation still further between parent and child.
This far, thankfully, not yet.
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How the Alphabet Was Made (Just So Stories, Rudyard Kipling)
“And far- oh, very far behind,
So far she cannot call to him,
Comes Tegumai alone to find
The daughter that was all to him.”
(You can find the full story at the link above, and the other Just So stories too, O Best Beloved.)