Yesterday, Katherine had a much-anticipated play date. She and her friend spent the entire school day (or so it seemed in the re-telling) planning exactly what they do during their time together. And then, the play date ended much earlier than expected. The friend’s grandfather came to pick her up earlier than planned and disappointment reigned. Really, all the girls did was eat a huge snack and talk about what they planned to play. And then it was over.
Katherine cried and cried, not able to sit with her sadness, she just kept crying. Caroline was doing her homework at the time so for some reason, I suggested homework as a distraction and for some reason, Katherine agreed. She remained tearful as she did her math and then she reached her for book. As she opened the book, I began to think to myself, as I do nearly every night, about how boring these early readers are. How there is often no story. No talking points. Nothing really to engage and then I was proven wrong.
Katherine read aloud about a rabbit that was mad and sad before she said, “Mom. This really is just the right book for me to be reading right now.”
I mean really. I couldn’t make this stuff up.
So thanks to a questionably written, primarily phonetic based, pretty dull story, Katherine made a connection with another sad soul and felt all better.
Just think of the implications if high quality literature was involved!