Bam! Cuteness. Don’t you love how I put a picture of my adorable little girl right up front so as to influence your perception of this post?
Ok, that wasn’t really my intention, but it works (maybe).
My little one seems to have a fondness for books already, and I couldn’t be more proud. Her favorite thing to do is to get into her closet and throw out all of her board books. Then, she’ll splay them out all over her bedroom floor, and give each one a little nibble.
I hope that this enthusiasm for the printed word sticks with her. My dream is that one day, she’ll be “hungover” from an all-nighter with her favorite piece of fiction, unable to tear herself away from the pages.
I was lucky enough to grow up with an English-teacher mother, and bookaholic father. Books were tucked away in every nook and cranny of our house. I can’t remember a time when most conversations with my father didn’t start with, “what are you reading now?”
He got me hooked on James Lee Burke and Martin Cruz Smith, fictional mystery series that took me away to vodka-soaked, post-Chernobyl Russia and corrupt-yet-lovable New Iberia Parish, Louisiana. Dave Robicheaux and Arkady Renko seem like crazy uncles who took me in and showed me the ropes of “reluctant good-guy” crime fighting.
If there’s one trait I hope my daughter inherits from her momma’s side, it’s the desire to devour one tasty book after another.