In the past week, I’ve been treated to two new freedoms: freedom from the imprisonment of the longest winter I can remember, and freedom for my son into the world of independent reading. Both sheer pleasure.
The first freedom, or f-read-dom, as I’ve called it here, has crept up on me by surprise, like a sneaky little gift that someone places on your doorstep quietly and unceremoniously: my son, aged 6 and a half, has started reading proper books all on his own.
By proper, I mean one that you can’t read in one sitting with lots of lovely pictures. Folk of the Faraway Tree kind of proper.
Our daughter is a total book worm, and we regularly have to switch her light off at the wall underneath her loft bed so that she can’t switch her light back on at 9pm to keep reading. If she’s upset (which is a daily occurance at the moment, being on the cusp of 9, which seems to be the new 13, sigh) she storms off to her room and retreats to a book to help her calm down.
I had dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, my son might one day start to read as a leisure time choice (;-) ) so that we might ALL be able to read (oh joy of joys!) on a Sunday afternoon, or whatever time it is that I used to read undisturbed in that Far Away Land of Pre-children. But I never expected this soon. I can only say this down to pure luck. We’ve done nothing different from most of our friends to produce this.
It’s also given us, for the first time in almost 9 years, freedom to not have to read to one of our children every single night of the year, 365. We will, of course, still read to him as often as we can (or he likes) as it’s such a lovely time for bonding plus I love kids books, but on days when we’re dog tired or rushing out, this is the best gift. Maybe those years of unrelenting reading every night are paying off…..?
The other freedom I’ve been relishing is one that you’ve all most likely been revelling in if you live in the UK – the long, greedy, will-it-ever-end Winter has finally cleared off to the southern hemisphere where it belongs. Goodbye, thank you very much. Spring has literally sprung. It’s like a great weight has been lifted off the earth, and the shoots, buds and blossom that was supposed to adorn our Easter holidays, has finally been allowed to rush on stage and go ‘Ta dah’!
I’ve been totally bowled over by the glory of the spectacle and gone all misty eyed at nature, like a once-jilted lover who forgives her mean partner. I can’t tell you how breathtaking the blossom in our road has been. The verges are lined with heavy laden white and pink cherry trees whose blossom tumbles down and brushes the pavement like a bridal veil. Every year I think someone should have their wedding reception here, or at least the street should organise a blossom party. I know I’d get some mighty wierd looks from the neighbours though if I suggested it…..its simply not that type of neighbourhood (sad face).
I’m posting this as part of Mummy from the Heart’s Reasons to be Be Cheerful link #R2BC and The Oliver’s Madhouse Magic Moments.