As I mentioned Friday, I nearly lost my voice last week from what I eventually found out was a sinus infection. It was a rough week or so, but I am finally feeling a bit better. In fact I hope to be able to resume my workouts this week.
As all of you parents know, when you are sick and have little kids in the house, you don’t really get any time to just “be sick” or “get some rest”. You pretty much have to do your normal parenting routine, except with ten percent the energy. Just how it works. And so, I still had to read my daughter to sleep last week, even though I had almost no voice left.
And so, Thursday night, we went to her room for night time. She normally chooses the books (you will get in serious trouble if you try to choose, trust me), but sometimes I can make suggestions. I suggested the book above, The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton. She agreed, along with several other book choices which I put on her nightstand, knowing full well she would only make it through one book. Still have to dance the dance though.
My daughter took her spot on the bed, under the covers and all peaceful, and I took my spot beside her, above the covers (for a more seamless exit when she was asleep) and sitting up. I knew as soon as I started reading I was in trouble, my voice just barely holding on after one page. It was then that I remembered that The Little House was a pretty long story for a board book. As my voice faded to a whisper, I contemplated skipping pages, but knew she would not go for it. The kid has an excellent memory and would surely notice such a scheme. My other hope was that she would fall asleep before the end of the book. Again, no dice. She held on to the very end of the story, at which point my voice was indeed a faint whisper. Luckily for me, there was no call for an encore and she fell asleep.
For those of you who have little ones in the house, or those of you that like a good kid’s book, I really do recommend The Little House. It’s a story of well, a little house, that is built in the country, but eventually get enveloped by the creep of “progress” and winds up in the city, only to be rediscovered by the great-great granddaughter of the man who built the house long ago. It really is a sweet story.