Lately, I’ve been surprised by how reading is so deeply engrained in our routine. This is mostly because of River, and maybe a little bit because of me. Lately, it’s been hard for me to find the enjoyable down-time to sit and fully read a book of my own. Despite my own personal reality, I am brought back to it again and again because the kids are big readers.
Last night, as I was laying in Oak’s bed (cuddling him to sleep) and R was reading a book in her bed, Oak found a notebook and crayon under his bed (my guess is that he hid it there?!) and started to scribble inside of it. Every few seconds, he’d look over at me with this mischievous smile, knowing he was up way too late, then go back to it. When he seemed to be done doing his late-night “work” he leaned over to River’s bed and asked her a question about what she was reading, and then he shared what he was writing. When she was done responding, he went back to scribbling.
It was sweet, and reminded me of the simple ways my kids bring me joy. It was also a brief personal reminder to pick up a book, a pen, or a notebook. I’ve come to realize that in raising kids, especially as they (and you) close the book on babies, things can seem scary, but it’s also completely magnificent. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t messy or frustrating, but the little moments that shine so clearly and also serve as reminders, are necessary now more than ever.
What are you kids enjoying by themselves? And what are you enjoying by yourself?