61. Reading achievement 1

This is a day to remember. I will probably celebrate it every year and every year I will cry just remembering it. The day my son, my pride and joy, finished ... reading ... I mean I am getting emotional just writing this ... my son read the 192 pages of The Great Gatsby!  

Now I know what you are thinking, readers, you are thinking he's been pretending. Many a time I have come up our creaky stairs and gone into his bedroom. It has taken me years as a mother to master the art: I go up the stairs and I don't bother trying to be quiet, I just go up the stairs. Then I loiter on the landing, pretending to dust the picture frames (then why so much dust) or to tidy the bookshelf (the bookshelf! That is so exciting!) and then I knock and enter only leaving a split second between the two. It does take practice. And when I walk in I have to act as if I'm just passing by and checking on him. So, as you can see, it requires a true savoir-faire. My son has been rising to the challenge though and when I say 'Hi! All good? I can see that he has just landed on his bed with the book in his hands. After it is just the same as with spinach or broccoli: I keep popping in until there is not much point in him leaving the bed - and the book - and so the pretending turns into a spot of proper reading. Hey! Reader, I can see you are impressed. It takes a teacher to come up with stuff like this.

There might even be a real proper philosopher who said something like that: just pretend and it will come and if it does not well, what does it matter? A good teaching method as any if you ask me.

Anyway, today I said to my son:

'You promised me you would finish this book by Thursday night.'

'Yeah, well, done.'

Just like that! As if he was so used to reading books and my question was just a stupid one. I thought how do our kids manage that? Making sure that well-meaning parents always end up looking stupid just when they think they will shine with wonderful parenting skills?

I tried really hard to hide my enthusiasm and to be honest I think I managed it quite well! I was about to ask if we could discuss it at some point but his younger sister looked at me as if mum don't go overboard, the poor lad. It must have been bad if it required his sister's intervention to shelter him from his mother's pushy methods.

So I played it cool. I can play it cool too you know. I dropped the topic and just 'la la la la' hummed my way to the kitchen.

But then it just came out, there's only so much you can control after all, and I blurted out.

'What about Lord of the Flies ?'

He humphed. Honestly, humphed! I thought that was a good sign: you know that shows he knows that this is the title of a book. Maybe?

His sister who does not know when to keep quiet, piped in:

'Oh! I haven't read that one.' And before her brother could say anything, she added.

'Don't make us read books about children eating other children to survive. Not cool.'

I laughed, of course I did, but I was, yet again, trying to see the positive side. True. There are children in Lord of the Flies, and ok they don't eat each other up but we're not far off. And before I could process all this, I looked at my son. He did not laugh. He looked at his sister, and I thought he looked a tiny tiny bit interested and wanted to ask some more but hey asking questions to your sister about a book you mother has down on your summer reading list. No. That is just so uncool. So he didn't. He humphed and went outside. But I thought I might have scored here. 

I gave a quick lecture as to the aforementioned book to my daughter. I was not going to miss that golden opportunity. Then I went upstairs, stopped on the landing, found Lord of the Flies and put it on my son's bedside table. My spirits sank a little when I saw that the fact that Gatsby had come off made no difference to the tower of books sitting there. In fact it was a taller pile of books. Lord of the Flies is a little thicker than The Great Gatsby. I sorted the books into two piles. I realised I was smiling to myself.