We are surrounded by books.
And yet we always have a basket filled to the brim with 20+ treasures from the library.
Oh, the library. What a wonderful and magical place. I have really come to appreciate it more now as a mama, now that it is a part of our routine. Now that it is a place that my boys are coming to know and love and appreciate as well.
One thing I lament, however, is that I don’t feel like as much of a reader since having kids.
I mean I can probably count, on one hand, the number of books I’ve read by myself since Xander came along. It’s been nearly a year.
But then I look at the stacks and the piles. I take stock of all the books I read, each and every day. Sure, the books all have pictures in them. But if anything I am more of a reader now than I ever have been (university/grad school years excepted).
I am raising boys who love books. Who adore libraries. I am raising boys who can lose themselves in a good story. I am raising boys who know the simple pleasure of curling up alone or with someone else in a cozy spot with a good book.
And that’s pretty amazing.