Kids, Fabulous Kids

So I've been writing, in this blog, all about books and words and photos and sounds, but let me take a morning's moment to celebrate the thing that transcends all that, which is (of course) young souls. I have had the most terrific time as a mom (and yes, my son, who thoroughly blows me away with his own edgy, classy, dialogue-fabulous, plot-enhanced writing, is nearly college bound), and I've had the greatest time kicking back and reading and writing with kids in classrooms, gardens, my own tiny but sun-filled house.

But this beautiful creature here in this photograph happens to be my youngest niece, who taught me a little about reading nine months or so ago. We were all gathered at my parents' house and she'd brought a library book with her, and nothing made her happier—nothing—than to be able to read that book out loud. The predictable patterning of the rhymes helped her out. The pictures kept her on track. The fact that her own mom had read it to her until it had the free-falling flow of the familiar. It was like watching a dance, watching this little one read, and it was also like seeing the future. Because she was opening doors for herself and she was so entrancingly eager for more. Watching her blonde head bob, watching her sky eyes shine, I sat there thinking that we who deign to write have responsibilities—to make it fun, to make it smart, to keep readers wanting more.