Day 74

My son is a prodigy.

Okay, okay, maybe not, but he did super-impress me this evening.

For Christmas he'd gotten a 500-page children's novel called "The Mysterious Benedict Society."  It literally has smaller print than the book I'm reading.

I was worried the sheer size of it would deter him from ever reading it, so when I tucked him in tonight I suggested I read him the first chapter out loud.  I got about 15 pages in when I realized it was getting late.  When I went to put the book down, he begged me to let him have 15 more minutes to read it.

Considering that he typically falls asleep with a book in his hands, I obliged, figuring that when I came to bed in an hour I'd have to pull the drooled-on manuscript from his sleeping hands.

Not so.  When I got up the stairs, there he was--still awake reading the book. 

"It's midnight, Max!  Bed!"

"I know, but it's SO GOOD!  Just two more minutes."

Again, I obliged, as I still had to get things in order to get myself to bed.  As I pulled back my covers and plugged in my cell phone, he came into my room.

"My arms are getting tired.  Could you just read me a couple more pages?  I promise I'll go to sleep."

I couldn't say no.  I mean, this was a matter of fine literature...at least for a 9-year-old.  And I was proud that he wasn't intimidated by the size of this book.  That he actually enjoyed it so much he couldn't put it down.  That's such an awesome feeling.

He curled up into my bed with me and handed me the book.

"What page?"  I asked.  I don't know what I was expecting...maybe page 25 or 30.  Max flipped through the book.

"This one."  His finger traced down the page.  "I left off right here."

I looked at the page number:  64.  The child had read 50 pages in an hour.  At first I thought maybe he skipped a few pages, but as I read, he began to react to things...things I couldn't react to because I had missed the past 50 pages.  He was laughing at things that to me made no sense, but he had read about something relating to them in the previous pages.  He had actually read those pages.  Became absorbed by them.  Couldn't put the book down.

After a few pages, I closed the book and we talked about it for a few minutes before I turned out the light, rubbed his little arm, and he fell asleep.

As a writer, I couldn't stop thinking about how incredibly happy I was that my little spawn understood the power of a great story. 

Before he had crawled into bed, I had been putting off starting my novel.  But after that moment, after he fell asleep, I turned the light back on, picked up my pen and notebook and actually started writing. 

That child...that child inspires me.  Every single day.