Oh, books. You crazy books!

Dutch continues to read. She's reached a point in the Harry Potter series where she can't bear to read any more. (She's decided to finish Goblet of Fire, but only under certain circumstances - it must be read TO her, and by a parent with whom she can cuddle, rather than a babysitter.) We noticed that those books are challenging for her, not just because they're pretty dark and scary, but because they're noticeably more subtle than the books she had been reading, most of which are very clear about what is happening, and how you're supposed to respond. ("That makes me feel so angry!" said the very bad man. "I think I will go do something BAD now!") She can read the words, but she's not sophisticated enough a person or a reader to understand what's going on beyond the very obvious. Not that Harry Potter is the most subtle literature out there, but it makes the Rainbow Magic fairy books look spectacularly crude.*

Noticing that made me think about how important it is to learn how to read a book. Not just read a word, but actually read a book, and grasp how the book is put together, and make connections. It's not easy.

So we're launching the summer on books that don't really demand that the reader do any lifting. She's pretty interested in Magic Tree House books right now, and Andrew Lost, (books that are fun, easy, informative, and confidence-boosting) but by far the most popular reading in the house is this book. Oh my lord. She's read it cover to cover, and now is just enjoying re-reading all her favorite parts. While I'm totally sick of the fart poem, I'm completely charmed to see my daughter loving a book that way - cherishing it. She carries it everywhere with her. It gives her a chance to read words and play with words, with no plot or characters to try to understand. Perfect.

*There aren't many books I wish I could un-read (and I read a LOT of bad books), but I feel that way about those accursed fairy books. (Though they'd be WAY better if they were about accursed fairies.) Cook and I both finally refused to read them out loud - Cook because he hates them, and me because I could actually feel my brain rotting when I read them.