Once my children can hold something in their hand and move across the floor in any way (crawl, walk, roll), they have grabbed a book, brought it to me (or my spouse), and insisted (verbally or non-verbally) that we read it to them. My spouse & I are big readers. My oldest now loves to read. All the others (except the baby) bring books to be read aloud to.
I’m trying to start back up with homeschooling. We’re still only doing a few subjects – with the goal of ramping up to “full” homeschooling schedule in another two or three weeks. Every day, however, I realize what a challenge that will be for us right now.
Not because of the baby.
Because every time I try to get started with something (anything – dinner, sweeping, laundry, doing history/science/religion with the older two), someone will bring me a book and ask me to read to them.
And, being me, I stop and read to them. Maybe it is only a chapter. Maybe it is only a page or two. That’s why there is a broom sitting against the kitchen table with a small pile of noodles that hasn’t been swept up yet. That’s why the laundry is still in the washer and the dryer door is open – waiting to receive the clean but still wet clothes.
In our house, books are a pleasant distraction from the rest of life. They are a distraction, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Eventually, the laundry will get done. We’ll get to the school work at some point.
And, I have a confession. Sometimes, I mean only to read a chapter. But, I get into the book just as much as the kids . . . and we end up reading two or three chapters. Or sometimes, we finish the whole book in one sitting and by the time I look up from our read-aloud, lunch is almost an hour late. That’s life in our house.