Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Mary Clare and I have been butting heads lately. A lot. Actually, so have Charlie and I, now that I think about it. So perhaps some adjustments may need to be made on my side.
But let's not talk about my lackluster parenting skills right now. Let's talk about books. Because books are the one thing on which Mary Clare and I can always agree. Even after going round and round during the bedtime routine and negotiating until we're both blue in the face, all it takes is a book or two to make everything right between us. She settles into my lap, I hold the book in front of us, and as we work our way through the story, she leans closer and closer until she is nestled against my chest and I am absentmindedly kissing the top of her head.
I'll admit, there are some nights when I am so frustrated by the stall tactics and her painfully slow pace that I don't even want to read a book, I just want her to go to bed. Like yesterday. But by the time we close the cover on the last book, I am always glad that I took the time to read with her. It settles us both down and it makes us good again.