The Book Monster
We are most definitely in the “I am nuts about books, I have to have them all, just read me this book NOW” stage. All the kids go through this and then settle into a comfortable love of books, which doesnt drive us nuts and sends us running for cover. Ok, maybe we dont literally run for cover from the child, but we feel like it. I am sure Mr.Blab could burn the stack of tiny Tombliboos books Dodman is chasing him with on a regular basis. Its a rather unpleasantly cutesy collection that HE bought into the house. Little B used to like the show In The Night Garden so he did it to gain some daddy points probably. And now its biting him in the hairy butt. Its the running joke. The girls would ask their brother where are the Tombliboos and he will drop whatever he is doing, run to the bookcase, grab the books and then plop in the lap of his daddy and wait to be read. There are about 6 books in the stack – Igglepiggle, UpsyDaisy, Makka Pakka, The Pontipines, Tombliboos and there must be another one, but I cant think of it now. We spread them on the floor and then he can bring each of them to you by name. “Can you bring me The Pontipines?” – run, run, run, plop on the floor, grab it and then deliver.
But whatever fun we may have with his addiction, we love it. There is something unbearably wonderful in this little creature and his books. Especially when he carries a big one around the house in search of a person that is suitable for a reading companion. Its usually accompanied with the well known “A! A! A!” or if the book is really heavy it goes more like “Uh! Uh! Uh!” and can be heard huffing around the corner.
He does look through them on his own. Almost like he knows what they say. Flips and stares intently.
But above all he prefers to back into someone’s lap, or squeeze under you if you are laying on your stomach on the floor. Its a special move that always makes us laugh. You are laying there, minding your own business, or not, it really doesnt matter. Little pitter patter “Uh! Uh! Uh!” comes over carting a book that ends up right in front of you with a thud. Then a butt is in your face and feet are making their way between your hands and then down your body until a head is right in your face and the book is being flung open and the little index finger starts to point around in anticipation of your voice.
And from time to time an excited utterance comes from that sweet smelling head – “Bee!” as the fat finger is pointing at the familiar insect.
We dont enjoy it at all. ;)