At Alex's new school, as part of her homework she is required to have a parent to read to her every night, and she turns in a report about what was read. For the record, Alex is an ace reader; however, the idea is that we're supposed to read something above her reading level, thus encouraging her to learn more complicated vocabulary words and language skills.
Since I was an avid reader as a kid, I have taken to doing (Alex's? my?) homework with great gusto. I've decided that rather than reading all of those contemporary books that are popular at Alex's age right now, I'm going to read the classics to her. (It appears I am far more like my father than I care to admit.) (Oh, be quiet, Natalie.) We just recently finished The Wind in the Willows, a book I loved reading as a kid, and which Alex mildly enjoyed (although she really liked the part where Mr. Toad dreams about driving a car and murmurs to himself "Poop! Poop!" This is apparently the noise cars used to make in the early 20th century).
But this week, we started Anne of Green Gables, a book about a young girl who has a wild imagination and will. not. stop. talking. Alex is loving this story.
I wonder why?
(Happy Love Thursday, everyone.)