Wolf and I are doing our best to raise book addicts.
We both read for fun. In fact, two of my birthday gifts were novels.
I have noticed, however, that the children prefer me to read to them, rather than Wolf, and was a bit puzzled by it.
After eavesdropping for a while, I figured it out.
First of all, Wolf reads in a bit of a monotone. He’s trying to bore them to sleep, it seems.
Then, depending on his mood, he’ll get creative with the stories.
For example, Boo is addicted to The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I mean, he’ll smack me with that book several times a day. (See this post for what I mean). I couldn’t figure out why he’d walk right past Wolf to demand I read it to him.
Until I eavesdropped.
“There once was a hungry caterpillar. And then a giant foot came down and STOMP! Squished bug. No more caterpillar, the end.”
Apparently, the caterpillar has also been eaten by a bird, according to the Middle Minions.
My children may end up in therapy from Daddy reading them children stories. I shudder to think of what would happen if he read them Bambi.
One downside to being a homeschooler, however, is that I suspect we probably have a greater than average number of bookshelves crammed full. Books are a bit of an addiction for me, and I impulse buy books more than anything else. Because, it’s educational. And one can never have too much education, amIright? Course I am.
I’m not the only one who loves books.
Of course, I don’t *eat* them.
Or roll around on them, barely dressed, fling them around, and squeal with joy.
I’m not sure, but I think Cubby may be a bigger book addict than the rest of us.