Books Read By Mommy

Steve has mentioned lately that he wants to read to Jack more often. He admits that he doesn't always think of it and asked me to mention it every now and then, when he and Jack are playing. Sure, no problem. Last night, we were talking about what Steve and Jack do in the morning. I suggested that it might be a nice time to read, while I'm getting ready and Jack is having his morning cup of milk. Steve sighed and said this:

He only likes books read by Mommy.

I've got to admit, my first reaction was a teeny, tiny bit of glee. It's kind of nice to hear that Steve feels a bit insecure sometimes. He is such a good dad that he's right to be confident in just about everything he does, but that is of course also maddening at times.

Anyway, Steve went on to say that while Jack will sit on my lap and page through a book with me, woofing at the white dog in Brown Bear, he won't sit still for Steve. He'll close the book and try to squrim away. All of this is pretty much true.

But I honestly think the reason that I'm the Reader Of Choice right now is that for the past 16 months, I have been working my ass off to get Jack to read with me. I read to him in his crib. I'd fight him to not rip the pages. I'd read to him while he basically ignored me and played with other things. I'd keep reading while he walked or crawled over the page. And finally, it all seems to have clicked with him. What Mommy is doing is actually interesting, and I should check it out.

I think Steve's going to try the same thing. It really is worth the effort to get the little guy to sit in your lap and snuggle, cackle-laughing as he points to Ernie.