One of the highlights of my day is bed time stories with Bell. During the day, we encourage her to read to us, but at night, I crawl in her bed. She snuggles in next to me with a glass of warm milk, her blanket, and book of choice. We read everything from non fiction books about snakes to classics like Charlotte's Webb.
She has been on a comic book kick for awhile. I am not big on them. Their story lines don't appeal to me very often, but worse, their font is hard for me to read. I literally have trouble seeing the words. The letters run together. However, bed time stories are for pleasure only, so she gets to choose.
Every few nights, she picks a book. Right now her book is usually a Skippyjon Jones. I love these books that have the right amount of silly with good vocabulary thrown in. Lots of poetic devices make them appealing to the ear. Good artwork. Funny stories. But the best part is when Skippy and his friends, a pack of imaginary chihuahuas, speak in a sort of Spanish/English mash up. Suddenly, I am channeling Cheech Moran. I just can't help it. By the end of the book, my si amigo sounds like a slightly stoned student from Stewie's Spanish class. I am lost in letting my holy frijoles roll off my tongue just right.
Bell never let's me do voices. I sneak in inflections some, but am banned from voices and accents. If she is tired, she might not notice if I am C3PO in the Star Wars Book, but being British for Beatrix Potter is forbidden. Cheech is the exception. I think there is something very wrong with a child's book sounding as if it is read by Cheech, but it is a compulsion and she likes it.
Whatever we read, it is a satisfying part of the day. The day's woes at school and our battle of wills over homework are forgotten. She is getting better at reading to herself. ( I think the glasses are helping because she isn't turning as many letters around. ). I am just not ready to give up this rich moment of the day yet.
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