When Penelope was born, we started a routine - bath after supper, put on jammies, read a story…or eleven, then head off to bed at the same time every night. Amelia is not one to, what's the word? Sit still. She has never in her thirteen months of life had an entire bedtime story read to her. Lord knows we’ve tried.
Instead we surround her with books in a dimly lite room, usually Mama’s, on a plethora of cozy blankets. She independently browses each book, flipping about her belly and back, legs possibly flying through the air willy-nilly. We have high hopes for her being an avid reader, but I see magazines in her future. She has her Mama’s attention span when it comes to such things.
This time is certainly something we look forward to. Penelope loves reading to her Mia. Mia usually has her own plans, plans to ignore Penelope’s pleas to “come here,” and “sit right here!” Plans to spread the wealth in back pats, of course, to whichever stuffed friend happens to join us.
I love these ladies. I adore Amelia’s chubby knuckles and Penelope’s appreciation of a good moon.
I am not giving up on being able to snuggle deep into a plush recliner, bundled under covers beneath a faint light, reading a good book with Amelia. It will happen. I know it.
For now I enjoy giggles amongst little girls, bear hugs for stuffed friends, moon gazing, and upside-down board books. It is its own kind of magic.