So a happy thing happened today.
Having decided he was 'right off reading' when he came out of school, Barnaby has pretty much stuck to books that are too basic for him like the Biff and Chip ones.
This has caused me major heartache. Mainly because I love reading. I know how magical it is to be of an age where your imagination is fired up and a book is the most extraordinary escapism possible. If you get this feeling early on in life, I think it rarely leaves.
It also didn't sit right because I know practice makes perfect and he was reading lots when he came out of school. So to go to the bare minimum made me panic. However, my ethos is pretty much "He will do it when he's ready" with the home ed thing, I can't deny it is at odds with my passion for books and reading.
I have kind of got used to the fact he wasn't reading. I've made more effort to read to him at night, and he would read if he needed an instruction on something. So imagine my joy this morning to come down the stairs in our holiday home and discover him curled up in the arm chair reading our loud chapter 8 of Fantastic Mr Fox.
What's more, he did another chapter this afternoon and 2 at bedtime.
I'm positively thrilled. He really has done it because he wanted to. And he was methodical and steady making sure be pronounced everything and had the comprehension of what he was reading.
Finally it means the brand new set of Roald Dahl that's been sitting on his bookcase since Christmas might hold more appeal to him now he knows he can read and understand it all by himself.
I can't deny there is a relieved part of me thinking "phew, I never thought he'd get there " but mostly I'm just excited for him that now he can find "his" style of books and that new worlds can open up to him whenever he likes!
Fantastic, Mr Fox!