My son turned four this week--four! I was busy with birthday prep, then the birthday, and now post-birthday birthday-present immersion, which basically means that I've been enlisted to play The Incredibles, Trouble and Memory with him ad nauseam because they are new. Repetitive? Yes. But I welcome it as a merciful reprieve from army men. That has left me with precious little time to comb the bookshelves for some new reading selections. But that's okay, because the detail-oriented Birthday Boy got his first I Spy book as a gift from his Grandma, so that has taken the reading spotlight for the past few days anyway. (And now that he has tasted I Spy ownership--discovering that his favorite series can be had without borrowing from the library--he's already dropping hints that he'd like to amass the entire collection for Christmas.
Before I Spy and Where's Waldo, I had a willing audience for any children's book I wanted to bring home and read aloud. For several months now, though he has great love for many-a-story in our collection and still enjoys hearing new tales, his heart belongs to the series that gives him the challenge of finding the difficult to find. When I take him to the library now, it's not so much to allow him to browse as it is to allow him to get a fix. He runs to the sections where the I Spy and Where's Waldo books are kept, pulls every one off the shelf, makes sure I understand that he wants to take them, "all, all, ALL," home, and only once I agree to this is he able to relax and breathe normally. His enthusiasm for the books is sweet, if not a little obsessive.
Ahh, my dear, just wait until you meet Harry Potter.
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