There was this period of time in my daughters' lives when they were already readers, nonetheless we still had evening hours where I read out loud to them. They are three and a half years apart, but I never dumbed-down the books to meet the needs of the younger girl. I could always find something that would be good for the three of us.
I loved those reading hours! Kids' books can be very very good -- from the classics (my adored Anne of Green Gables), to more contemporary stuff. The goal was to keep the themes moving through different times and places. To shed some light on economic disparity and cultural traditions that were foreign to us. But what was often difficult was to find books where the protagonists were of mixed race or of a different race. It's not that there were none, but my local bookstore (Borders) didn't carry many. Oftentimes there would be the token Black or Asian girl in the mix, but they seldom were the central characters to the story.
Too, what I really missed were books with diverse characters, but that weren't necessarily accounts of extraordinarily accomplished people. I have always loved stories where the characters are ordinary, complicated people like you and me. Only with various perspectives born of different life experiences.
Two things I can say right now: such books are easier to find these days (thank you, internet), and also my grandkids are at the age where reading with them is an act of total pleasure. The books are good! I get as much involved in the dramatic twists and turns of the daily lives of these people as they do. I shed happy tears when a problem resolves itself in a good way!
I say this because my Saturday had some of those reading hours smack in the middle. It's wet and cold outside and we pretty much ignore the Great Outdoors.
I eat a bowl of fruit alone (Ed sleeps in)...
... and then I go off to do my Saturday run to the bakery to pick up croissants and baguettes. Some for the farmhouse, some for the young family. (And I am surprised to see a looooong line at the bakery! This is a great sign, in my view. We are all becoming delicious bread addicts!)
I hang out with my daughter, with Snowdrop, and Sandpiper (while Sparrow is at his multi-sport activity with his dad).
(She is teaching him relaxation techniques...)
And then Snowdrop comes home with me and we finish the several remaining chapters of Ways to Make Sunshine, by Renee Watson. It's like Ramona (down to the Portland setting), only modern and the family is Black. Does it matter? Yeah, I think it does. We aren't at a stage where we can ignore race in our recounting of daily life. I think Watson's books are fantastically clever in their simple recounts of daily life. Such welcome additions to our collection of favorites!
(Just one photo! Okay...)
Evening. That beautiful November quiet sets in. Candle flickers. I start in on the planning of Thanksgiving week meals.
