Crocodile hunter by day, fairytale princess by night

When I was a youngster, I read.  I distinctly remember getting in trouble in first grade because I would hide novels in my little student desk, reading in my lap during lessons.  In second grade, I remember volunteering myself to the timeout wall during recess so that I could sit and trek through whatever adventure I was currently invested.  In fifth grade I read Gone With the Wind, and became so obsessed with the setting that I started collecting historical tomes; I am probably the only person you will ever meet that has a shelf of thick analyses of battles and biographies of commanders that they began collecting as Christmas and Birthday gifts at the ripe age of ten.  In sixth grade it was ancient Egypt that caught my fancy, and I devoured the ancient world with a voracious imagination. In eighth grade I read Grapes of Wrath - just for fun - and loved every heart wrenching minute of it (to the chagrin of my later, 11th-grade self, who was assigned the book to read in class and found wading through the dust bowl too depressing for my current place in life.....unfortunately, they didn't accept the "I read it when I was twelve" excuse).  Truth be told, there is not a realm of the written word that I have not allowed my mind to dabble, wade and dive into.  But this blog is not about what I like to read now.  Because now, I am a mommy.

Myself as mommy does not get to indulge in new reading adventures nearly as often as I would like, though life is certainly as adventurous as ever.  And while I may at one time have a pile of books knee-high that I was alternately perusing and engulfing, I now collect books to share with my child.  When my daughter (now two and a half) was first born, I was finishing graduate school in the biomedical sciences.  Having read somewhere that infants learn language faster and more efficiently if they hear it read to them constantly, I read her scientific journal articles outloud during my entire six week maternity leave.  Don't worry, I wasn't trying to turn her into the worlds tiniest cancer biologist.....she got to hear plenty of poetry, news, novels, and children's books as well.  She may have been the best-read one month old on the planet, but no one really studies these things so it would be difficult to prove.  And while the initial goal of plodding through read-alouds of technical manuscripts was to teach her to speak and communicate with the world, my one hope for my sweet baby girl was to imprint a love of the written word somewhere deep in her heart.

While I am certain that no one on this planet (save my angel's two grandmothers and maybe her aunts) want to read me bragging about my child, I have to get it out of my system just this once:  My efforts at instilling early language skills have rewarded me with a toddler that is often mistaken for an older child, clearly speaking her mind with the assertion of a teenager and delighting listeners with her creative imagination.  And she loves to read.  She can read for hours - literally.  In a room of toys and books, she looks at the books.  She is her mama's girl.


Well, here we are.  After an expose on me and my girl wonder (or simply wonderful girl), we are left with why we are here. This blog is not about me, or my miniature crocodile hunter/fairytale princess (it depends on the time of day).  It is about the quest for cultivating an adventurous mind through reading.

I intend to keep track of the adventures that we are sharing by sharing the books that we are reading together.  I hope that you will read along with us.  And cultivate an adventurous mind!