Waltzing Matilda

Thought I'd run out on you, huh? 'Tis I, back again, to haunt this blog forevermore. 

It is amazing, both the work and the joy one receives at seeing their child learn to read.  Oftentimes, I groan inwardly simply because well, she chooses the stories and sometimes they are the same book and I long to hear another.  Other times, I groan because she just doesn't want to exude any true effort and looks to me to sound out the words, acting as though she is inept.  This is when it truly gets upsetting.  She is so capable and she sells herself short (hmmm, I think I may know someone else who seems to do that).

And then there are those moments, when it is pure joy and bliss and everything wonderful you dreamed and more.  Those are the short suspended reality moments that you work for.  Though tonight I wanted to groan inwardly, I decided to take an opportunity and let her read the two books she chose, and then I pulled out one that I wanted to read to her.

Normally I would read to all my children but the toddler is more interested in discovering what else can make noises on this brick surface while the wonderful five year old took herself to bed (don't ask me, she does it all the time once she begins to feel sleepy). 

We actually started Matilda, written by Roald Dahl, a few nights ago, but tonight, I was able to sit down with her and read three more glorious chapters.  In that time, she decided that Matilda had a mean daddy and needed to get a new one.  All in due time, I thought to myself.  In any case, for an entire hour, my daughter and I wrapped ourselves up in the written word together and loved every syllable of it. 

Illustrator Quentin Blake's rendition of the main character, Matilda.

Matilda is one of my books in my reading goals for the year. Specifically, to read it to my children.  I never realized just how many memories it would bring to the surface of my mother reading to me.  Specifically this book.  This book instilled in me my love of reading, and taught me that there were entire worlds and characters and adventures out there in each and every book I picked up, should I choose to embark upon them. 

This event may not enrapture my daughter to suddenly become some avid bookworm.  Yet I hope it instills something that stirs her to love the written word and just how powerful it can be.  And how entirely wonderful it can be.

You see, I've found that I'm not in it so much for the power behind it, as for the wonder inside it.