When I was a kid, I always had my face in a book. (Heh, still do, at every opportunity...) In fact, I even had teachers take books away from me in the name of "socialization", which I still think was an incredibly anti-intellectual and ridiculous thing for an educator to do, especially since I had close friends and socialized plenty within a small core group of "the smart kids" who also loved books and science and stories and art. I had, in many ways, an idyllic Brooklyn street kid childhood, and spent all my afternoons and summers playing skelsie, wiffleball, handball, stoopball, box ball, cops and robbers, space explorers, etc. on the street with my friends, supervised from afar by assorted moms and grammas, but pretty much left to our own devices to be creative, have fun, and work things out amongst ourselves. However, if I was immersed in a good story, I wanted to finish it, not be told in a condescending tone by an adult with no clue as to the foregoing that I should "run along and play". I knew would see my pals after school in the neighborhood, after I finished my book.
Mikro is even more social than his dad or I ever were. He's confident and outgoing (almost to a fault), and he surprised a lot of people at Clearwater Festival by approaching Pete Seeger and talking to him on his own, without a parent smoothing the way. He is comfortable with people of all ages. He loves to sing and tell stories. He has friends in the neighborhood and friends who homeschool, and his fondest wish is to find a stage and an audience that will adore him. My kid is the furthest thing from shy or withdrawn or socially awkward (except to the extent that attempting to dominate a room is socially akward...)
Anyway, yesterday, Mikro plunked himself on the couch and read 125 pages in the first How to Train Your Dragon book by Cressida Cowell.
I am beyond thrilled that no one will ever snatch a book from his hands and tell him it would be better to go play.
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