Part of my Alaskan adventure this month was to include watching less TV (ideally less for Abe and none for myself (the little guy watches a ton of educational tv)) and reading much more. I can't say that I've opened a book yet this month solely for my own pleasure (I read history mostly so that's a silly sentence) but I did sit down with a timer set to 15 minutes yesterday and began reading out loud from C.S. Lewis's, The Chronicles of Narnia.
I read to little Abe again this evening for another 15 minutes. Thus far we've read through two chapters of the 17 chapter book. At this rate we could reasonably read through two novels this month. I honestly wondered before I began if my very young three year old would pay much attention to my reading from a chapter book. I figured it would be a good exercise none the less and I've been wanting to start reading aloud to him for 10 to 15 minutes increments for some time (from a non-picture book).
I often times find myself imaging what life must have been like before television and radio even. I know that even before books families would tell stories after dinner, during down times at the homestead. Books and story telling are one of the earliest forms of entertainment. I'm certain that countless three year olds through out the history of the world have been subjected to hours and hours of their parents reading aloud to at least the other children of the family. I imagine story time must have been anticipated, looked forward to and families bonded during the evening readings. I've just realized that many a child must have been subjected to very boring readings as well that they cared nothing for. Haha, and here I am wondering if my reading a children's novel to my child is foolish.
I'm happy to report that he is very interested. He's been listening really quite well each time I've read the story and he's asked a great deal of questions about the story (much more this evening then the last). I found it funny that while I read from this older story of which words are jumping out at me left and right that I know my child has never heard before the only word he's asked me to explain was "batty." Edmund called his little sister Lucy, "batty" after she'd returned from the wardrobe and they refused to believe her story of adventure to a land called Narnia. Little Abe stops me and asks, "what's he mean, batty? what's batty?" I find it humorous that the three year old boy is most interested in learning this new insult word. Don't get me wrong, my kid is very kind and compassionate but it struck me as very humorous. "what's batty?"