So, last night, about 11:30, I stop by Maria’s room to see if she’s asleep. She wasn’t. She was re-reading the last pages of “Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief,” a book that she had been devouring all week.
I’m always more than pleased to see her reading instead of trying to watch TV. And, as I said, she devoured this one.
Along with book reading, another thing that she does less of these days is talk to me. It’s not that she *doesn’t* talk to me, or is avoiding me. It’s just that a lot of the topics on her mind these days appear to be more things to talk to Mom about instead. I’m sanguine about this. It think it’s likely just the way of the world.
But, last night when I stopped by, she said “Do you wanna hear about the book?“
I said, “Sure,” and plopped down on the bed, and she preceded to give me a blow by blow recounting of the book…
It might have taken her 20-30 minutes. I lost track of time. A part of me thought “Jeez, it’s late.”
But another, bigger, part of me thought: How many more times in her life will she ever want to do this?
In the grand scheme of things, probably not many. I mean, we’re standing right on the cusp of those teenage years.
So, I sat there and soaked up every single word…and cherished every single minute.
I am grateful, so grateful, to get the chance to hear my daughter tell me about a book she likes.
What a blessing.