My kid loves to read. I mean LOVES to read. Homegirl will sit still all day if there is a welcoming lap and books to be read. Sometimes, if there's no one around to read to her, she busts out one of her books and reads to her doll, pointing out the important characters, like we do when we read to her. Eavesdropping outside her door, you can hear her telling her doll "Duck. See? Duuuuuck."
She has no shortage of books of her own. Though, I must admit...I've hidden a few of her books from time to time. One can only read "My Food: Guess what I like to eat" or "8 Silly Monkeys" so many times before one begins to grey prematurely. Despite the impressive library of cardboard books, she still finds interest in the three bookshelves that I have filled with books from college, newer books, well read books, and books on my "if I ever have an hour to myself ever again, I'd like to start to read this book" books. It's pretty comical to see her sitting with her doll, reading Dostoevsky or Alice Walker. Prime toddler reading material.
Anyway, last week, she came running up to me, holding a book, proudly announcing "DADDY!!" as she pointed to the cover of the book. I roared with laughter, because the cover of the book depicted a woman with long flowing dark hair. "Daddy!" she insisted, handing me the book. I don't even know where the book came from. I think maybe freecycle in a grab bag of books? Who knows.
Anyway, Evan was pretty peeved when I giggled the story to him. He sat down with Cecilia and the book at the table and he pointed to the woman on the cover. "Is that Daddy?" he asked her. "No. Mama." she answered. Evan smirked. Cecilia didn't think he was a woman afterall. Then, she pointed to a picture in the background that I failed to notice. "Daddy." she said, pointing to a sketchy dark haired man in the background. "Mama, Daddy" she said pointing to the two pictures.
And so, in my daughters eyes, I am...Native American? Greek? Whatever it is, I'm pretty poorly dressed.