I don’t normally write about parenting on this blog because I’m pretty private when it comes to my kiddo. But let me tell you, he’s a great kid. Also a bouncy kid. A very bouncy 6-year-old kid.
This poses problems for novelists who don’t have an office. When your child says, “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mom, mom, mommy, hey mom, mom, mom, mom…” every single time you actually get started on your work, it’s liable to make your head explode. Seriously. I wouldn’t exaggerate. Make. Your. Head. Explode.
So my challenge was to find a challenge for HIM. And I found it in the form of Junie B. Jones. The books, not the website, but if you click on that link, I’m sure you can find the books. And they are hilarious! It took a bit of military-style parenting to get him to actually sit down and read them, but once he did, I got some quiet–beautiful, extended minutes, all connected together of blissful silence while my son read about Junie B. Jones, the baddest kid ever to step foot in a Kindergarten class.
The best part is that he’s actually enjoying this. He’s pouring all of that extra energy into reading books with chapters that hold his attention and open up whole new worlds to him–worlds where Junie B. Jones can do all the stuff that he’d get in trouble for. (That he… ahem… WAS getting in trouble for…)
I always wanted to raise a reader, but knowing how to read and actually loving a book are two different things.
Knowing how to read is good.
Loving a book–oh, that’s a gift for life!
And a gift to that novel-writing mother who gets to sit down and write… for whole minutes–connected minutes!–of quiet.