Long before libraries were made cool again because of the recession (“Guess what?” features writers chirped, “Books are free to use here! What a way to stay on-budget!”), our kids were always eager to get there. Books are important in our house; we have them in every room. I mean, every room. The kids love being read to, and both (obviously, the Girl more so) can go through several books a day on their own. But books read in bed or cuddled together during storytime are one thing . . .
So it was amusing and pleasant to hear one day, coming from the washroom: “Mama! I need help!” I sighed, familiar with a four-year-old’s request for “help” while sitting on the toilet.
“You finished? You need my help?”
“No, I haven’t finished. Can you just bring me some books? There’s nothing here for me.” (Apparently, four-year-olds don’t read Waterfront Living or kitchen books.) I don’t know why exactly, but the fact that the Boy was now reading on the potty, and searching for something interesting to while away his private time, was heartwarming to me. (The Girl, who took almost 10 months to potty-train, spent the first 9 months purely in reading. She would sit there for 20 minutes at a time, just looking at her books. Then one day, she clued in to why she was there.)
My Boy was getting to be independent in the washroom—in more ways than one.