It's a Long Chol HaMoed

Long time readers know that I am a serious aunt. I've been in the trenches. I've been up at night with babies, been barfed and **** on, and read Harry Potter until I thought my throat would never be moist again. 

But reading a child a book can be a lovely experience, providing one overcomes one's initial reluctance. Kids will do anything to be read a book. It's the best form of bribery that doesn't involve cavities (candy), next-day exhaustion (later bedtime), or screen addiction (tv). 

Mallia Wollian reminded me of this with "How to Read Aloud to Children." When the babies were old enough to be read to, I recalled the pitiful effort my siblings expended when they read to me. They would utilize flat monotones only, and rattle along at high speed. Plus there was always some form of quid-pro-quo. It wasn't enjoyable. Luckily I picked up reading skills quickly enough so I didn't have to rely on them. 

When I read to kids? The first time Han saw me smothered beneath children, holding up a Berenstain Bears so everyone could see the pictures, he cracked up. I go slowly and clearly. I do voices. I use inflection and nuance. 

Sometimes they do have to beg me, of which I am not proud. Then when I have that warm, trusting weight on my lap, eager to hear my take on Farmer Ben's southern accent . . . like I said, it's lovely.