I slept through my alarm, you guys. I stole 15 extra minutes of blissful sleep while my clock radio blared classical music for the rest of the house to enjoy at 6:45 am. I wear earplugs, so this has always been a risk, but I’m a very light sleeper and I usually wake five or six times a night no matter what and I’ll take them out when I see the clock read anything later than 4:00 am. Just in case. Last night, however, I slept like a log. Like a rock. Like a normal person.
My dream before I was so rudely interrupted by Morning:
Me: “Mom, can we go to a real bookstore? This one doesn’t have anything.”
I wandered around this sub-par store, scanning the shelves for anything decent to buy, coming up short.
Me: “Seriously, MOM. They don’t even HAVE a comics section. Let’s go.”
Then I ran into someone who asked me if I wanted to touch his gross muscles which made me physically ill, so I hid behind a table display of The Avengers related children’s books, waiting for him to get over himself and go away. Finally, I walked to the door, peeked into the mall’s hallway to see if there was anywhere else I could go in this God-forsaken place, finding only underwear stores and stands selling fro-yo.
I was saved from my dream-state misery by AH shoving me, mumbling something about sleeping in. Oh, wait. He wasn’t mumbling. I was deafened by my industrial-strength earplugs and I was also a full quarter-hour late.
I slept like a living dead person for 7.5 hours last night and I still feel like I could sleep for 10 more. And I’m also really craving a comic book shopping spree. This is what happens.
Avery brought a book home from school yesterday. A book TO READ. Not that anyone expects her to be able to read yet; the chick’s only been doing this school thing for a month. But it begins. She has a duotang with a checklist for us to mark how many times I read the book to her, how many times we read it together, and how many times she “read” it herself. “Read” because after reading it to her once, she had it memorized and “read” it right back to me. But I guess that’s how this whole reading thing starts. I point to the words as I say them, she remembers how the story goes and points to the same words as she’s saying them, and eventually her four-year old mind equates the sound of the word to this hiroglyph of letters to which she’s pointing. If last night is any indiction, she’ll be a quick teach, just like her older sister.
NOT that I compare the two. It’s very, very important not to compare children, for any reason, even if it’s near impossible not to. Mine are so incredibly different. On the surface, they’re both pretty girls with shoulder length hair who like to play Monster High dolls and watch Shake It Up, A.N.T. Farm, and Good Luck, Charlie. They’re both picky eaters and they both love the sound of their own voices. But Eirinn is so much like AH, it’s scary. Ultra specific and micro-managing, she asks question upon question and calls you out if you trip up on your answers. She’s a perfectionist and takes immense pride in her efforts. Avery, on the other hand, can’t remember what she did in school, so DON’T ASK.
She’s more like me, in that she’s goofy and a little more care-free, although I’ve got some pretty awesome OCD traits (let’s organize the movies AGAIN! this time in chronological ORDER!!!). It’s because they’re so different that it would be unfair to compare their academic development. They’ll be drawn to different subject, learn at a different pace, and have different styles of learning. One may love maths and sciences and the other may excel in the arts. I could guess which one is which but I’d probably be wrong because my kids love to leave me confused.
All this to say that just because Eirinn picked up reading very easily and very quickly doesn’t mean I expect Avery to do the same and it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t. I’m proud of her memory skills, that’s for sure. I absolutely couldn’t remember a 12 page story after hearing it just once and she did, so there she is. We’ll start working on the actual reading part of reading when she’s good and ready.
Me, crouching in front of Avery, getting her dressed: “That’s it. No more growing for you, missy.”
“Because if you grow one more inch, you won’t be a teeny, tiny baby any more.”
“What if I just grow this much?” holding her hand just above her head.
“What? That’s HUGE!”
“But I’ll always be your baby.”