While my five-year-old son was watching the Wizard of Oz last night, I had my face buried in When the Game was Ours, Jackie MacMullan's best selling book about Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. This isn't a new routine. My son and I have been doing this for as long as I can remember. I'd give him a bath, and while he'd play, I'd read the Economist. He'd play on the jungle gym at a park, I'd read my biography of Oliver Wendell Holmes (I know, I read such riveting material).
This was the second time my son expressed an interest in MacMullan's book. He is absolutely fascinated with the pictures. He made me bookmark the pictures separately. Since the book has some cool pictures I might want to scan and use on this blog, I sort of tucked the book away for a while, hoping he'd forget about it before getting a chance to crinkle them all up. Two weeks later, I pulled out the book, and he immediately wants to start examining it again.
Only this time he says, "Daddy, will you read the book to me?"
You mean the captions under the pictures?
No, the whole book.
So that's what I started to do last night. I started reading the book to him out loud. Normally, his mother reads him his bed time story. Guess what he asked her to read last night?
This is pretty cool, as well as pretty interesting. He knows I like the Celtics, particularly Kevin Garnett. He spent most of the 2007-08 season saying "Daddy sure does like Garnett." There is one thing that worries me, however. My son's favorite color is yellow. We already have one Lakers' fan in the family, my brother. I'm not sure how I would respond if my very own son started rooting for the Fakers, too.
That would be a gut-wrencher. On the other hand, I don't hate too many things in this world. Maybe if my son ends up liking the purple, I'll be able to dial back on the hatred . . . a little.