Monkey1 was reading a book for her last book report of the year. (Yes, first graders do book reports, called "Reading Stars" by their teacher. They have to write down the title, author, characters, problem, how the story ends, and draw a picture.) She was reading "The Kissing Hand" by Audrey Penn.
Chester Raccoon stood at the edge of the forest and cried.
"I don't want to go to school," he told his mother. "I want to stay home with you. I want to play with my friends. And play with my toys. And read my books. And swing on my swing. Please may I stay home with you?"
"I was never like that!" she says as she turns the first page.
Oh no? I thought.
What about ballet, when you wouldn't go in the door?
What about preschool, when you cried whenever anyone mentioned it all summer prior?
What about the car drop-off line for the elementary school - last year and this year?
You are the reason I bought this book!
But I didn't contradict her. I let her read the book, aloud, confident in her grown-upness.
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