Land of Enchantment

"Between them, our parents had about seven thousand books. Whenever we moved to a new house, a carpenter would build a quarter of a mile of shelves..."

This quote is unfortunately not from me. When I did read it, however, my heart skipped a beat and I had to force myself to quell a little anger and frustration (that so desired to manifest itself) at not living a similar childhood. Actually, from what I can remember, my childhood was completely the opposite. I don't remember ever seeing many books in my home, and of course as consequence, never remember seeing my parents reading. This may have been because they had five children, six years apart, to handle, which is completely understandable. However, something inside me is jealous of those kids who were able to rub their little hands over the spines of such wonderful gems, balancing themselves on bookshelves as they learned to walk, and being scolded for slobbering on the corner of Hugo.

I was never a legatee of such treasures. Yet somehow, the treasure was buried in me, to bequeath on to my very own.

I have this feeling that the only reason my children will hate books is because they have grown tired of tripping over them, having to push them aside to sit on the couch, eat at the table, or seeing them instead of their parent's faces.

I even have dreams of going on "reading dinners" (name change open to suggestion) with my little family. This, of course, is where we go out to some cute local restaurant, each with our favorite book (or book we are currently absorbed in) in tow, and spend the evening reading and talking about what we love, hate, and are learning from our lovely portable friends. And if you're sitting there, tilting your head to the side and whistling one of those "Eeesh, she's gone off the deep-end" tunes (think: the infamous slide whistle when Wile E. Coyote was thrown off the edge of a cliff, TNT strapped to his back, by that cunning roadrunner), let me mention that I've seen more than one family thoroughly enjoying this exact little ritual.

One of my favorite paintings is "Land of Enchantment" by Norman Rockwell, one of my favorite artists. I fully determine to have this painting hanging in my children's room. Possibly right above their crib in the nursery:

So, until I have my own little ones to impart the joy of reading to, here is a little list of "Books Mothers/Fathers/Both-tag-teaming-at-once Must Read to Their Children." Feel free to add or remove as you please!

1. The Giving Tree

2. Where the Wild Things Are

3. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

4. The Phantom Tollbooth (chapter book. For the older ones)

5. Corduroy

6. Peter Pan (The original is incredible)

7. Ferdinand the Bull

8. A Light in the Attic

I could go on about the statistics of the benefits of reading to children and bore you half to death, but I'll skip that and leave you to hopefully tiptoe to your children's bedside, lulling them to sleep with some wonderful literature.