Book! Book!
We initially established the routine of reading Goodnight, Moon to the Munchkin to help her wind down for bed at night. She now demands that we read her a book before bedtime (and naptime). Just try to get past her without doing it. You will be informed that this is NOT the way we do sleep in this house, and you had better change your ways, fast.
Our nighttime repetoire has expanded beyond the gentle, rhythmic prose of Goodnight, Moon (although we must read that book to her every night, or there is trouble. She knows that book so well that she does the “hush” when the old lady whispers it). We now also read several different stories, all of them much longer than the books she asks us to read to her during the day. When we read during the day, we are expected to turn the pages as fast as possible so all of the “kii” (kitties) and balls can be found in record time by the sharp eyes of the Munchkin. At night, she is trying to stall the actual going-to-bed part, so she is willing to sit in our laps for a story.
One of my favorite books to read to her is Bedtime For Frances. This book was mine as a child, and my mother recently gave it to me, along with other Frances books that I had written my name in at about age 6. We gave the Munchkin Bread And Jam For Frances last Easter in her basket. I love the Frances series, because Frances is always looking out for number one (herself), but usually discovers that sharing/being nice/obeying/trying something new is better than getting her own way.
When we started reading the Frances books to her, the Munchkin got really excited. “Kii! A kii, a kii,” she said happily.
Frances, her parents, her sister Gloria, and all the other characters in the stories are actually badgers.
YOU try telling the Munchkin that. Every single time we read a Frances book, she calls Frances a “kii.”
“That’s a badger, honey,” I tell her.
“No, kii,” she insists each and every time.
“Badger.”
“Kii.”
“Badger.”
“A KII!” she informs me. Good grief, Mommy, are you deaf? I said it was a kii!
At this point, I give up and keep reading, leaving her to smugly claim triumph. “Kii,” she says with authority.
Someday she’ll figure out the difference. In the meantime, she enjoys the books, and I enjoy reading them to her. I like the book-at-bedtime routine. Although the Monty Python skit is much, much funnier.
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