My kid goes back to school today.
We had a book-filled summer, and that’s what I’ll miss the most. Among those moments:
Swapping middle-grade books.
You’ll like this one, Mom, because the mom’s a writer.
You’ll like this one, hon, because there’s a lot of math in it.
Discussing history through books and watching her grasp issues. Her perspective is fading – slowly – from black and white to gray.
Mom! Why didn’t African Americans just leave the south and move here where there’s no segregation and racism?
Getting cozy in my bed and reading different books, stopping each other to quote favorite lines. (Trust me, she has too many favorites to record here. They’re all from Lemony Snicket.)
Guessing the plot.
Mom, is Marley going to kill someone?
Honey, main characters in kid-lit rarely commit murder.
Busting her as she sneaks extra reading time at night.
Calling up the stairs to her bedroom: Sam, are you still reading?
Then why can I see light from underneath your door?
Click. Light disappears. What light?
A total Mom lie: Sam, if you’re not reading, why can I hear pages turning?
Silence. You can’t hear that.
Nope, I can’t hear that.
And hopefully my neighbors can’t hear me cry today. Total blog mush. Sorry about that.
Tomorrow I return with something dark. Meth or war or Amazon sucking the life out of indie bookstores. I promise.