"Mommy, Read To Me..."

My daughter Cassidy is three years old.

Cassidy loves to read.

Only, she can't read, not yet. But she loves the books, to turn the pages, to follow along with the text with her pointing finger. And I love to read to her.

I seek out the books of my youth, I look forward to sharing them with her. Often, I struggle: I know it had an ink drawing on a girl in a field, picking strawberries; what was that book called? A book called Match Point, where a girl plays competitive tennis in the shadow of her champion brother and sister: out of print. Who was the author?

So, a gift for Cass: an endeavor to record the books she loves.

Tonight, Cass, we read three books at bedtime, short ones because it was late, and you wanted to play with Daddy, who had only just returned from the beach.

We started with Worm is Hot, a "learn to read" type of book, which you know all 30 words of, pointing out the words fairly accurately and excitedly.

We read Grandma's Garden, yet another Little Critter book by Mercer Mayer. Monday the power went out and I read you every Little Critter book we own, twice. But you are excited about your little garden, your marigolds and chamomile, and you wanted to read a gardening book.

And finally, we read Maurice Sendak's In the Night Kitchen, saving your current favorite for last. What a weird, surreal book this is, with its nightime illustrations and dream plot. What a jewel of childhood. You are always delighted by Mickey's clothes tumbling off, cackling and covering your mouth in pretend dismay. You love when Mickey's cake plane goes up-and up- and up! and the bakers sing,

Milk in the batter!
Milk in the batter!
We bake cake!
And nothing's the matter!

I love to read Sendak out loud. It is one of my favorite jobs, as a parent.
May you always be young enough to snuggle and read Sendak to.