My Bird is a reader. He inhales books as he inhales air, gasping for just one more as he turns the last page. At any given moment his nightstand holds a teetering pile of books, Sports Illustrated Kids from last fall that he simply cannot bear to part with, and some tattered old books of mine that my dad unearthed (like Andrew Henry’s Meadow, still a favorite!). I scold him for the state of his nightstand, telling him to straighten things up and what not. I should really shut up about it because Bird makes his bed everyday and is otherwise neat. I realized recently that my very own nightstand looks just like his. I currently have an issue of Cooking Light from January, my Nook, a couple parenting books, a pad of paper, and a pen (the best ideas come in between dreams). Meanwhile, Mac Daddy and Deal keep just one book on their nightstands. They read one at a time, almost begrudgingly. They cannot fathom how Bird and I can read multiple books at a time. We cannot fathom how they can’t.
This tango of nature and nurture is an interesting one.
Of all things I’ve passed on to my Bird, who is so very much like me in temperament, outlook, and constitution (for better or for worse), a love of books and words and writing makes me oh so proud.
What fun. Davis and I are both big readers too. Love the cute picture.
My Kyla does the same. She reads constantly, several books at a time, while I read constantly, but can’t stand to read more than one story at a time. Funny isn’t it?
Charming…and reminds me of my own childhood. My mother and I have the same dynamic. 🙂