The long spell of wellness is over. Kenz has a cold. She hasn't been sick since, I think it was October. Poor girl, her colds always seem to end up in coughs.
I went over to visit her last night and took five of some of her favorite books that live at my house. I think I like reading to her as much or more than she likes listening to me read.
I love children's books, especially if they fascinate her, make her think, make her want to read more.
She's five and isn't reading yet. I see signs that it's just about to happen. She's been sounding out words for a long time. She recognizes a dozen or more familiar ones. She just hasn't taken the plunge yet. It's coming and I am excited for her to read to me.
Last night while reading to her, I had a glimpse of being a child again; studying the pictures, while a grown-up read to me. I remember almost disappearing in illustrations. The children and animals, cottages, fairies, forests and skies were there for me, for me to mesh with. I didn't have to worry about black letters or paying attention to words. I could study the pictures, the colors, clues and the shaded emotions behind the story.
When I read to Kenz, I will often stop and point at a word, check to see if she knows it or wants to attempt it, but last night I purposely refrained from this and let her wander into the story books by way of the artist hands.
This pre-reading time will soon be gone and I am grateful for the wisdom to celebrate it and enjoy it while I can.