What Shall We Read, Now?

With the bigs at camp, I thought we'd branch out with the bedtime reading this week. I had a slew of ideas on deck. I did not realize, however, that Jacob has spent the last few months staring wistfully at his brothers' reading lists, wishing we could read those. Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates, All Creatures Great and Small... he's happy as happy can be!

Jase, who generally dissolves into fits of frustration and ire when it comes time to read (although I suspect that's more about the bedtime that follows) spent this evening kneeling in front of his bookcase, picking out stories to read together. It's crazy stuff, but so very good.

EmBaby and I just finished Little House in the Big Woods. I didn't choose it as a family read-aloud, because I've read those books to the boys at least twice, and they've read them, themselves. Yet every time I began reading with her, bodies drifted toward the couch, leaned against the stove, or draped across the arm of a chair, all else forgotten for a few minutes while they re-visited the pig on the sled, or the bear Ma slapped, or the sugar snow. Those stories weave a wicked magical spell on the house. And then, as soon as the chapter is over, the spell is broken and each one goes back to his tasks, happy and content.

When we did the latest (though not the last - but one could wish) threshing of the basement, James found our copy of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Oh! The celebratory reaction from all (we'd missed reading it this past Christmas, because, evidently, it was in the basement). It's in the queue, now. For June. Of course. I told them we can start it as soon as we finish Brisingr.

And that, that book, that long, long book, has been our bedtime read-aloud for so long now that it's beginning to feel as if it's been our only read-aloud since time began. Part of the problem is the reader (me). Getting glasses recently has helped, but it's not a complete remedy. I can't wrap my tongue around the Scandinavian-influenced words. Nothing flows gently off my tongue in this book. For the love of Vrenshrrgn, I need more vowels! Still, the first two books fairly flew by, and we began this one with so much enthusiasm. The writing is different, though. There is a lot of drawn out introspection provided for the reader, and a general wordiness that makes an already challenging task more thwarting than it ought to be. I've been tempted to ask the bigs to read it to themselves, with the offer to start Inheritance as a read-aloud if they'll just get through this one on their own. (One would - he loves fantasy, no matter how it's written. The other is putting up with it simply because he enjoys the time to sit together and unwind at the end of the day. He'd slip off and read another Thursday Next novel, if left to his own devices. And then Jacob would bring me the book, break out his Puss In Boots eyes, and I'd be stuck reading it aloud in the end, regardless.) So, we read. But I've already decided that if I run into the same trouble with the next book, I'm giving everyone and everything nicknames.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy