The (book) worm has turned at our house

We’ve found a new activity at our house that doesn’t involve television, video games, or my smart phone.

And, no, the activity we’ve found isn’t sleeping.

Instead, it’s reading. As in, my son reading to me.

Now before you start to think I’m either a GREAT parent for thinking up this rather (ahem) novel idea or you think I’m a CRUEL and UNUSUAL (ok, the unusual part might fit) parent for making my son read to me, there’s something you should know. This was his idea.

I’m not even sure how or why it started. I was basically just sitting around one day minding my own business – probably watching an intelligent and entertaining Lifetime movie or something – when my son asked, “Do you want me to read to you?”

Well, you know what? I did want that.

As our children grow older, it seems we have less and fewer opportunities to have one-on-one moments. Things that we do together. Moments that we share. It seems like as kids grow older, we tend to think that activities must be more elaborate.

But here was simplicity staring me in the face. My son. A book. Me.

It doesn’t get much simpler than that.

And so he’s been reading to me just about every night. He might read for 10 minutes. Or he might read for 30 minutes or more.

He started out with a couple of stories from a book he bought at one of those regularly occurring book sales they have at schools. It’s a book of about 10 stories on crime scene investigations.

I wish he hadn’t. I thought if you bought the book at the school, then the book might be, you know, written for someone on that grade level. i didn’t realize it was going to more graphic than many CSIs actually see first hand.

But then he moved to some of his favorites: the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series.

The latest one came out the first or second week of November. And I bought it for him not knowing that I was going to hear it in the near future.

He wants to read the entire series to me – in reverse order. Fortunately, this isn’t a series where the story builds on itself. Otherwise, I might be in trouble.

We’ve made it through three of the books so far. And I’m looking forward to hearing the others in the series. Not because I’m enthralled with the stories or the depth of the characters.

But because it’s a chance to spend time with my son. Doing something that he wants to do.

The other day we were coming home from work and school, and my son asked me how my day was.

“It was great,” I said.

“Why, what happened,” he asked.

“Nothing special. It was just a great day.”

“You know,” he said, “we just don’t take time to appreciate the simple things in life.”

Sometimes I have no idea who this kid is. But I’m always thankful that he’s mine.