Mommy Books

I’ve started teaching a literature class, which has completely revolutionized Margaret’s world.  She’s very used to me reading things, but I tend to read on my kindle, or my computer, or my kindle app for my phone, so she doesn’t recognize what I’m doing as reading books.

But when I am teaching, I like to scribble notes to myself in the books, to remind myself of important things in the text (and to make it easier to find useful quotations in class, because it makes me look so much more knowledgeable).  This has led to a number of mornings where I sit in the living room and read books while Margaret plays.

Which means that Margaret has gotten interested in my books.

Of course, she – like every other person who reads Sir Gawain and the Green Knight – has to make a choice between original text and translation.

She opted for the original text.

And so she began reading.

Also, when she finds them on the floor or on the table or in my bag or on a shelf, she picks them up and brings them to me, saying “Mommy book.”  This is good, because since she learned that she has a name – “Marmar,” but with very swallowed Rs, so it sounds suspiciously like Mama, which is what she calls her grandmother, not to be confused with Mommy, which is me – she has been trotting around the world naming things and attaching herself to them.  Marmar has milk and chairs and stuffed animals and all sorts of things that belong to her.