After the newspaper has been put to bed, I go home to a child not yet asleep. Or perhaps she woke up when she heard me come in.
I'm starving. I want a couple of cheese sticks and a glass of cheap wine.
"Read to me," she says. The kid is almost old enough to start going to community college.
"Ok," I say. I bring the wine, the cheese sticks and she hands me a self-help book for women, a 200-page pep talk on how to be smart and happy. The BBC's fast chatter on blood-soaked coups and soccer scores bubbles nonstop from her radio.
"Get in my bed and read to me."
The kid is as tall as I am.
I'll read to her until the world ends and we fall asleep.
Reading with children- its one of the best and most simple pleasures there is. Your post makes me miss my boys, and they are only 20 feet away on another floor above me, dreaming little boy dreams.
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