One the greatest pleasure I've enjoyed as Jack's mom is reading together. There was a time when all I'd have to do is sit on the floor and he'd rush off for a book and back himself into the Mommy chair (me). But sometime over the past few months, the dynamic has changed. It started out innocently (and, might I add, adorably), with Jack reading to me as well. I'd read, he'd read -- matching the intonations and a few key words. Adorable, right? Then he started insisting that he read the book the whole time. His versions were generally much more dramatic than mine - shouting, pointing and banging on the book, which he invariably holds upside down. Still adorable. Arguably more so.
But then something snapped. Suddenly, I am not actually allowed in the story chair at all. Indeed, if I try to sit down, I am berated and Jack gets behind the bloody thing and pushes at it until I get out. On one hand, I admire this new independence... and maybe generosity? (I am allowed to sit on the toybox next to him and listen while he reads, after all) But on the other hand, I'm like Dude, I invented this story chair. I was reading stories to you before you even knew you had hands! Also, you read your books upside down.
I know that's not the right attitude. I know it's pretty awesome that he wants to clamber up there all by himself and read. It really does warm my heart. But I do miss the cuddly ritual of it all. And I miss reading! And that's why I said to him, when he wanted to re-read "Yawn" one more time tonight, "Ok, you can read it one more time, if you promise I can read you a story after." It didn't work of course (what with his minimal understanding of time), but it made me optimistic about years of storytimes ahead, knowing that at least for a little while, we'd actually fight to read them to each other.