Tonight before bed, my seven year old daughter read “Green Eggs and Ham,” by Dr. Seuss. She did beautifully, and made me remember all the nights my husband and I read that very book to her when she was a baby. She recited it and “One Fish, Two Fish,” before she turned two [picture a tiny little girl with huge round eyes, a rosebud mouth, and wild, ringlet curls saying, “Dat Sammy am, Dat Sammy am, I not like dat Sammy am,” in a voice so high pitched it made the dogs howl. She sounded like a munchkin on helium.]
When she got older, she got sick of Dr. Seuss, and we were despondent. Hubby and I are life long fans of the great Doctor, and sometimes we would refuse to let her or my son pick the bedtime book because we wanted Seuss, dang it, and they never picked him! Sometimes we made the children suffer one more rendition of One Fish, Two Fish, or Fox In Socks [complete with voices, supplied with great vigor, by my husband] “just for old time’s sake,” [probably a good two years’ therapy, right?]
And tonight, after she had finished reading, she said, “Mom, I think I love this book!”
Glory be! It’s a good day, my friends, a good day indeed.