10 months ago, reading with my toddler left me ripping my hair out in frustration.
Tonight, bedtime went a bit like this.
Monkey-face runs off to bed without a word, clutching The Enormous Turnip.
We read it together, word for word.
Monkey-face:”can you read it again please?”
Me: various responses in the negative because it’s past her bedtime.
Twenty minutes later, we’ve had screaming, running up and down the hall, being cute, pleading, asking for daddy… all just to get the book read again.
I know I sound cold-hearted, but it will only end in the same outcome, having read the book five or six times. But, what a difference! She just LOVES that book!