Chloe is eager to make a list of books she has read to hand in at our local library so she can have government spies tracing our every move have her name added to a draw to win a poster of some kittens.
Every night, she slowly leafs through the books on three shelves (2 hours) and teases me by pulling one out, showing me the cover and then shoving it back into place.
She almost always comes back with a Robert Munsch classic that I’ve only read 500,000 times (x 3 kids) that she can recite while blind folded. If I try to skip a word, a phrase an amusing, made-up sound like “GWACK!” she calls me on it.
Last night, in addition to the others, she wanted Dr. Seuss’ Yertle the Turtle (and I welcomed the change) though I was looking forward to that last scoop of French Vanilla ice cream in the freezer the kids thought was a container filled with frozen hair clippings.
But the book club and book list, they needed her entry
We read Munsch and she stalled, it was all elementary
We read in her bed and she wrote in her book
The names and the authors, the titles, the look
She asked for another, a third and a fourth
I looked at the clock and Munsched the word “Gourth!”
Her writing was careful, for that I admired
Though my eyes were closing as I grew more tired
Pony-tails, pies and a tall stack of turtles
A kid with a pencil and someone named Yertle
This summer book club sure has been fun
Fear not young Miss Chloe, we’ll get to grade one
I flipped over pages while she corrected her “Y”
“Is it a ‘V’ with a hook, like a string from the sky?”
Night time reading and writing has become the theme
But how long before I get my ice cream?
