“This is Biscuit.
Biscuit is small.
Biscuit is yellow.”
Every day it is the same. See the girls off to school. Feed and walk Millie. Make a cup of tea. Read Biscuit (by Alyssa Satin Capucilli). Read it twenty times. Take my last swig of tea. Rally the troops–me, the toddler, and MIllie–for morning chores.
All of my children have had favorite books. Some last a few days; others are stories that they will most likely read to their own children. But when they love something, they love it. Like, let’s sit here and read this book twenty times love it.
Confession: there are times when we get to the end of a story and I have no idea how we got there. Somewhere between “This is Biscuit” and “Good night, Biscuit” my mind goes on a little vacation, visiting the Land of Lists: Things I Need to Do; Important Phone Calls to Make; Supper Ideas;…
Likewise, although it is perfectly understandable that my mind may go numb after a few readings of Biscuit, list-making while reading doesn’t make me more productive, it makes me irritable. Not only am I not enjoying the time that I set aside to read with my son, but I end up feeling rather anxious about all the things I have yet to do. The Land of Lists is not a relaxing place.
It is also about the quality that I bring to the task of parenting. This is what I’m choosing to do right now, and physically showing up is only part of the job. When I can be there with my child, really there: When I feel the warmth of him sitting beside me, notice the way he giggles when I bark, “Woof!”, enjoy my cup of tea, and the stillness that we share before continuing on with our day.