I particularly like talking baby things with my co-worker/friend Pat Hanna because his daughter is almost a year older than Elijah. Which means he has lots of answers to questions like, “Is poo really supposed to be that consistency?” He also, like me, refers to spit-up as “puke.” Because that’s what it is.
I was sitting in his office yesterday comparing gross baby notes when the subject of reading came up. I asked him when he started reading to his daughter. He said, “Well, technically we started before she was born…”
I replied, “Oh, well yes…um, me too. We’ve been reading to Eli since before he was conceived.” I quickly backed out of his office. I hadn’t cracked a book in front of Elijah in the two months he’s been on Earth, which means he is WAY behind. Isn’t reading the key to all brain function? Don’t the experts say you have to read to your kid if he’s going to develop verbal skills? Stupid stupid stupid. I may as well hand him a nametag and teach him to say, “You want fries with that?”
So I raced home and declared in a loud voice, “I’m instituting a bed time story! Starting tonight!” Diana looked up from a squirming Eli and said, “Good luck.”
I took the boy upstairs, and after cramming him into his sleep gear, I grabbed the first book I could find. It was a biography of John Adams. I then grabbed the second book I could find. It was “Guess How Much I Love You?”
I think I through the word “much” before Elijah arched his back and went absolutely nuts. He screamed bloody murder (every body’s a critic). Diana came upstairs and said she’s been trying to read to him for weeks, but he no like book learnin.’
Maybe we can teach him to be a Linebacker for the Bears. They don’t gots to be smart, do dey?
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