As we were getting our stuff together to leave the house this morning, Miles noticed a book sitting next to him on the bench near the front door. He immediately reached for it.
“That’s daddy’s book,” Jaclyn said as she tried to wrangle him and finish pulling his jacket on.
“No, mine,” Miles said.
I stepped over and picked up the book. “Does this LOOK like your book?” I asked, flipping through it and letting him see the amount of text (and lack of pictures) on each page.
“You won’t like that book,” Jaclyn said. “It’s boring stuff.”*
“Yeah, hopefully once you’re old enough to read it, this stuff won’t be a problem anymore.”
Miles wasn’t buying it. He was leaving with a book one way or the other.
“Here,” Jaclyn said, carting him off to his room while I took everything out to the car, “let’s go find a book you can take.”
When I came back, Miles had chosen, perhaps predictably, a book about a farm (currently one of his big obsessions). He flipped through the book all the way to daycare, letting me know the animals he was seeing (“Horse!” “Chicken!”) and approximating their respective sounds.
There are habits I have that I hope Miles doesn’t pick up, but carrying books everywhere is one I can definitely be happy with.