Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Practice, Practice, Practice

Wow, ever since I came back to Duct Tape and Chicken Wire, I've been pretty good about writing every day.  This makes me very happy and it really is getting easier.

My favorite blogger ever, Wide Lawns and Narrow Minds, had a post the other day that I thought was so appropriate I had to comment on it.  It had to do with how you can get your kids to read.  You really should read it if that sounds like it would be interesting to you, but the basic idea is that you should never, ever try to direct your kid to read, or not read, certain things that you think are educational or important, but instead let them read whatever the hell they want.  The reason I sent her a comment is that this is something that's happening with Peaches right now.

I don't want you to judge me (ah, heck, go ahead...it's an anonymous blog) but I don't take Peaches to the library.  This is because when I tried to do so, she got books she liked and then either hid them or destroyed them in some way so I had to pay a heinous fine to be allowed to go back.  But since I love to read so much, and she has a learning disability, I want to make her feel like she can read anything she wants.  What we're doing most of the time nowadays is going to Half Price Books, which has killed all the other little used book stores, about once a month, and I'll tell her that she can pick out as many books as she can get for ten dollars.

It's working, too.  She's got a fixation with fairies at the moment, which drives me absolutely bonkers as most of her friends got sick of fairies when they were ten and have finished all the Harry Potter books and are starting on Percy Jackson, and besides, when I was thirteen I wasn't even reading kids books anymore (except S.E. Hinton, and frankly I still will sometimes read my ancient copy of The Outsiders because her books are just so awesome).  So I always have to take a deep breath, look her in the eye and remind myself that she is not me and she can read anything she wants, so I buy them.  And these aren't those cool coffee table books about Faeries with the amazing illustrations, these are the "Shiny sparkly fairy magic pony rainbow" type books that are for girls half her age.

And she goes home and plows through them all in a day, then she brings them back to me and asks if we can go back and get some more.

Which makes me feel really good, even if they are really juvenile, and sometimes I'll even do it.  Because I figure that every single book she reads is just making her a little more fluent, and eventually she'll get tired of fairies and move on to The Boxcar Kids and Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and eventually S.E. Hinton and the San Jose Mercury-News.

Peaches will probably never be a reader like me, but then again, I'll never run a triathlon and she's already run three.

I guess in a way, my writing every day is kind of like that.  If you want to write, it doesn't matter what you write about.  Just put the proverbial pen to paper and make it happen, and maybe someday you'll find that you're growing a bit inside as well.

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