Like many children, I used to sneak a flashlight into my bedroom so I could stay up reading way past bedtime. I remember once upon a summer's night (at least I think it was summer. I could be wrong.) I had a little bedspread tent set up and was reading contentedly, feeling certain that I would not get busted because surely my parents were sound asleep by 10:00. I was also unaware at the time that my parents would probably never punish a child for reading in bed. Ever. Even past 10:00. But on this particular night there came a pounding on the door and insistent parental voices telling me to "get out here, now!" I remember quickly turning off the tell-tale flashlight and pretending to sleep, heart pounding. But the insistent voices insisted and the parents intruded on my sanctuary and aroused me from my fake sleep. They led me outside where my sisters were already watching the phenomenon in the sky. That night the Aurora Borealis was visible in Colorado. My parents forced us all to look at it and appreciate it. (Officially vindicated, my parents are.)
We spent some moments out on the deck together and I was thrilled, I'm sure, to see the wonder of Nature in her Glory. But mostly I was relieved that I was not in trouble for staying up late reading.
I read my kid bedtime stories every night. He loves it, and not just because I say so. But I always read to him. He never reads to himself. I don't really mind because he does love stories, so I figure as long as we keep reading it's just a matter of time.
So you can imagine the thrill in my heart when my small boy made himself a pillow fort and wedged a flashlight in between the cushions and read the next chapter of our chapter book to himself.
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