I was in Peanutman's room the other day and took a gander at his old books. Makes me both sad and happy to see them. We're so far past them, but they hold such dear, dear memories. The bedtime routine, the rocking chair, the snuggling, the entranced toddler, the demands of "mores mommy. read mores!", the voices I'd use, the cadence, the repetition and rhyme, the illustrations...the days of complete innocence. I never tired of reading to him - and now he is quite a voracious reader on his own. Makes me melt when I see him buried in a book. Those indulgent, time-is-standing-still moments apparently served both of us very well.
Do you have an absolute favorite book you read yourself or read to your children?
