Today will be a short post, because I spent most of my day in manic productivity. I wish I could say all of that energy resulted in words, but I did make progress there, too. And I cleared up my calendar for some serious writing tomorrow.
I was cruising through the to-do list, when I had to stop at 2:45pm for my middle daughter's weekly allergy shot, followed by my oldest daughter's first karate lesson (something she announced she wanted to do last week), pick up my baby from a play date, run through McDonald's for dinner, then take my middle daughter to her first of three swim practices this week. In the few minutes in between, we squeezed in homework and chore assignments.
On the way home from swim, my daughter (DD2) asked me how it felt to be a writer. My kids rarely ask me about writing. If anything, I think they wish they didn't have an editor/writer for a mom, because I red ink all their first draft writing assignments.
I told her I loved writing, because it gave me a way to process the world. It just came out, and it felt like the right answer. She's not old enough to read my book just yet, and she's my only daughter I have to force a timer on to do her nightly reading requirement.
It felt like the right time to find out why she didn't like reading...
Me: Why don't you like reading?
DD2: When I don't like a book, I find it so hard to get through. But when I really love a book, I go even slower.
It took me a moment to digest what she said.
Me: Why do you think that is?
DD2: Because I want to savor it.
Now, that doesn't sound like someone who doesn't like to read. Just someone frustrated by how long it takes to get through that really great book. I'm such a book nerd that I truly wanted to cry.
I'm sharing this, because I found it really inspiring. Learning new and unexpected things about my children always brings a smile to my face. Discovering that she really did love to read. Priceless.