Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Sometimes when I watch a young child paging through an old picture book I get a visceral memory of the way those old early readers felt and smelt when I was just learning to read. The paper was thicker and the ink had a distinctive scent, mixed with the fingerprints of all the children before me. Does anyone else remember that?
Last night after I read a chapter from Little Bear by Elsa Holmelund Minarick I watched Buddy Boy go through it. He likes to read it after me, telling the story from the pictures and asking for clarifying details to make the story his own. Our copy of the book is an old library discard and it has been poured over by hundreds of children. It has those old style illustrations and the pages make a particular sound as they turn. It pulled me right back to the magic of the very beginning. I can actually remember what it was like to be a child. To adore the physical book and be entranced by the magic of reading. Unlocking the code.
Do you remember learning to read? Longing to read? Falling in love with books?
tags: kidlit storytime