Okay, I don't remember my parents reading stories to me, though I'm sure they did. (I love reading, and have since a young age, and according to everything, they had to read to me or else I'd hate books. Or something.)
But oh!
I remember when I was in the ER because I needed a calcium IV to boost my calcium levels fast. My fingers and legs were a-tingle. I was 14 and a half. I asked my mom to read me a Stephen King short story. Yes, I knew how it ended. But the fun came from her reading it aloud to me. And the love. She's my mom.
I was like, "It gets more awesome!" but I didn't ruin the end of the story. Plus, the people on the other side of the story (one in genuine pain) started listening and that would have been rude.
I guess my point is, there's more to reading a story to your child than the story itself. Maybe part of your ritual is saying together "and they lived happily ever after." Parent, "Goodnight."
But the kid? Bah.
Doing this young sets up a lifetime of illiteracy. Somehow. But Good Eats is on. He's frying something. Toodles.
3 comments:
There isn't a kid alive who knows who Paul Harvey was, not even deprived Plugger kids.
I didn't like this one until I realized that the plugger-kid looks like he might be half bunny and half dog, which would be awesome because it'd mean that we might in the future see half chicken half dog kids, half bunny half rhino, and who knows what else
you're a pro, kaitlyn.
I would have totally screwed this one up. I thought the caption was "you're a plugger like the late paul harvey if, like him, you're dead."
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