I fell in love with words in the fourth grade. I love words. I love books. I love that words can make a picture in your mind, or tell a story, or make you cry. I love reading stories of people from all over the world, to travel the world, if only in my mind. People ask how I have time to read, having five children, and I tell them that I just do. I don't scrapbook, I don't sew, I don't bake. I clean my house, play with my children and read.
Tonight, Andrew was reading his first Hardy Boys book during cartoon time because Tom and Jerry is too childish for him, and he is stuck on all of his Nintendo DS games. So he read. He kept asking me what words meant. Words like duds and reluctantly and hootenanny. And I began to wonder, how do I know what all those words mean? I don't remember asking my mother while reading a book, but maybe I did. Maybe I just eventually figured it out, or guessed. I still do some of that if I come across a word I don't fully know the meaning of. There are so many words. I felt as though I needed a thesaurus so I could explain to my eight year old what a sleuth is. It's easy to know what they mean, it's another thing to explain it to someone else.
I have hope that my children will love words like I do. My oldest two are both avid readers and read well above grade level. Michael hasn't started kindergarten yet, but is already starting to read. Words are amazing. We live in a world full of stimulations; video games, television shows, movies, computer games. It's so lovely to be able to sit, quietly, and get lost in a story. I think Andrew is starting to see that. I just hope it never becomes a chore and that he can enjoy reading!