One year ago, we were at my mother's house in Maryland - our last stop before boarding a plane to come to Johannesburg. Quince would beg my mother to read to her, and my mother would oblige being the good grandmother that she is. Quince absolutely loved books and loved being read to, but she struggled with reading herself. Being the Tiger Mom that I am, I would insist that Quince read to my mother before my mother read to her, or that she read one page, my mother the next. Now of course I was worried. After all, Alexander was reading Harry Potter by the time he finished 1st Grade and here Quince was struggling with the most basic sentences. Maybe she was dyslexic, or had ADHD, or was a drug addict. Was it a huge mistake to even go to South Africa?
But our bags were packed, so I packed up my anxiety too, and off we went. One year later we don't have a drug addict on our hands, but rather a reading addict. She can't get enough. Big books, little books, books she's already read, on the sofa, at Alexander's sporting events, on geocaching expeditions, in the car, at dinner parties - it doesn't matter - she just needs to read.
No comments:
Post a Comment