Long-legged Readers

 

So I'm sort of ready for my kids to stop growing up. Sometimes they seem so small . . . like today when Grandpa, Deacon, Kyle, and I were watching Bryce at bat during Baseball Camp. Bryce's batting helmet squished his cheeks together and he wasn't sure of himself, and he seemed so small and especially cuddly. But then much later today, as I was prepping dinner or doing the dishes--something kitcheny--I glanced over and caught Bryce reading a new book to Deacon. (I still can't believe that magic Mrs. Sawyer works over on her kindergarteners.) Bryce was there on the carpet, sounding out words, and reading captivating-ly enough to secure Deacon's undivided attention. I mean it. I probably could have switched on the old KitchenAid and no one would have come running. Today, their legs seems so long, and they seemed so big, and Kyle was aching to be big along side them (see his little bum in the air . . . eventually he settled for sitting near them). Every time Grandma Greta visits she does two things that she happened to do with me when I was little. She stands back to back with each boy in front of the floor length mirror, and tells them how much they've grown, and says that they'll soon be taller than her. They love it. Then, when they're all reading books together or sitting at the table doing crafts, she lines up, in turn, each boy's hand with her own and points out how long his fingers are getting, how big and strong his hands are becoming. And each boy eats it up. And now, Bryce reads at least one book to her, and she tells him how big his is getting, and how good a reader he is. And I have to say, I'm not ready.