The Routine

It is the same. Every time.

"Bah?" she ask with book in hand.

How can I resist? I put the work of the day aside to read to my baby.

I sit down cross legged on the floor. Any other way throws her off - she doesn't know where to sit. She will stand up and sit on any available body part, stand up and sit, stand up and sit finally turning to me in confusion. Cross legged it is.

She backs up with a tiny giggle in anticipation before plunking her diaper padded behind onto my lap.

Book clasped between her two hands, she kicks her right foot twice into the air before she is ready to begin. Always the right foot and almost always twice. She isn't to be rushed. Open the book before she is ready and the spell is broken. The book is tossed to one side, scolding babble is thrown my direction. She'll get up and turn her attention elsewhere.

She opens the book, snuggles her body into mine and finally is ready to read. Every moment in our lives isn't this precious. I'm working hard to hang on to the memories like these.

Just when I started wondering if I would struggle with getting this one to read, the interest is finally there.