The following is a humorous sharing of recent events.
My baby can read. He’s 7 ½ months old and he can read. Or at the very least he is trying to read. Why do I imagine this? He keeps pulling books off my bookshelf.
After I replace them in the hopes of preventing damage to my book collection, he crawls over there and yanks them off again. The same books. Consistently.
His favorites are located in various spots within his baby arm range on the two bottom shelves. It doesn't seem to matter if I put them back in their usual places or scatter them randomly in a vain attempt to confuse his baby brain.
He is making special effort to pick particular books. And they represent a definite change of pace from his baby book collection.
Out of all the books on the shelving unit, he chooses the following: Angels A to Z, Communicating with Spirits, and Spiritual Healing.
He gazes at the covers intently, tries to chew on them [learning by ingestion?], flips them over to read the back cover, and then opens up to a [random?] page.
Eventually, as his baby fingers start to pull a little too enthusiastically at the fragile pages, I intervene. His dismay is profound. I have interrupted his solitary spiritual reading time.
Due to his obvious interest in the subject matter, I have now resolved to occasionally read a page or two of my books with him. Hopefully, this compromise will keep my books from further peril until we finish babyproofing the house.
My baby can read. He’s 7 ½ months old and he can read. Or at the very least he is trying to read. Why do I imagine this? He keeps pulling books off my bookshelf.
After I replace them in the hopes of preventing damage to my book collection, he crawls over there and yanks them off again. The same books. Consistently.
His favorites are located in various spots within his baby arm range on the two bottom shelves. It doesn't seem to matter if I put them back in their usual places or scatter them randomly in a vain attempt to confuse his baby brain.
He is making special effort to pick particular books. And they represent a definite change of pace from his baby book collection.
Out of all the books on the shelving unit, he chooses the following: Angels A to Z, Communicating with Spirits, and Spiritual Healing.
He gazes at the covers intently, tries to chew on them [learning by ingestion?], flips them over to read the back cover, and then opens up to a [random?] page.
Eventually, as his baby fingers start to pull a little too enthusiastically at the fragile pages, I intervene. His dismay is profound. I have interrupted his solitary spiritual reading time.
Due to his obvious interest in the subject matter, I have now resolved to occasionally read a page or two of my books with him. Hopefully, this compromise will keep my books from further peril until we finish babyproofing the house.
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