Monday, 5 September 2011

Morning Reading

For the past few mornings, when I've climbed out of the shower and walked tentatively into the ominous quiet of the living room, this is what I've found; John, comfortably ensconced on the sofa, surrounded by books, happily reading to himself.

His contentment is so great that he doesn't move when I enter and his absorption is so intense that he doesn't falter when I reach for my camera. He simply sits, turning page after page, naming the things that he sees, singing and babbling, and weaving for himself a story that's too magical for me to understand.

And with each turn of the page, I see his imaginative world grow, and it's a beautiful thing to behold.


  1. It's a good sign. From a former bookseller and a mother who's child almost made her crash the car on the A34 aged 3 when he read the side of a truck. I thought he just liked looking at the pictures and had memorized his favourite stories....

  2. I used to love sharing picture books with my children. It's the beginning you know, eldest has just read Cannery Row by Steinbeck and is rereading The Lord of The Rings for the umpteenth time. I love that John is reading his book upside down!