As my six-year-old settles down with a book, Thomas and the Jet Engine, I can't help but feel his palpable excitement. For years, letters have made little sense to him. What's the big idea with all those funny symbols? And how can Mommy spend so much time staring at those black-and-white pages...as if they mean something?
But very recently, something has clicked for him: he's beginning to read. And I'm just as enthused as he is.
I think we often take it for granted. How easily a message can be conveyed in a single word, or a single page. How powerful a story can be.
As I watch him read his Thomas book, I remember the first book I learned to read on my own: A Bird Can Fly, So Can I. I still cherish it.
Do you remember the first book you read as a child? or maybe one you simply read over and over again?