Stacks of books and changing seasons

I wasn’t prepared for the book stack to change. I mean, I knew it would happen, of course. But my one and only child is growing up so incredibly fast. This changing book stack took me by such surprise.

We love reading. Listening. Sharing stories. Scripture. Poetry. Music lyrics. We read at bedtime every single night. Now he also reads on his own and my favorite, he reads to me. My heart nearly burst today when he said “Oh, wait here, I have some poems I want to read to you!” We then read together for an hour.

Our bedtime reading is shifting, too. He wants longer chapter books with adventure and would listen to reading for hours if we would allow. But we also still love the picture book stories. And he makes me feel like he’s still little. He is, in ways. But I’m also learning to let him grow. When it’s papa’s night he uses the best voices and I love the memories they’re building. If I could just bottle up the laugh sounds.

Many routines have changed. It is quick but I have really paid attention. I really do get to soak up an entire season and treasure it up in my heart. I remember the night my father in law put Jack to bed and we came home from our date and Pops looked so somber. He said “he didn’t want his baby blanket anymore” and then we shared the sweetness and seriousness of his grandson growing. That blanket used to fit his entire body into a cuddly swaddle baby. Then he held it and it lay beside his toddler body. Then it became something he only sometimes wanted like when he scraped his knee. We’ve gotten to see it all. And enjoy it all.

We’ve had the nights where no one slept and everyone cried.

We’ve had the nights where “just one more story!” and there’s no way I could say no.

We’ve had the nights where attitudes were so miserable and everyone was mad and no one even wanted to read a book. … but we settle in and heal a bit as the story sweeps us away and our hearts come back and we pray and kiss goodnight.

So many nights of bedtime routines and books. So many book stacks around our home. I love the piles on the couch. On his chair. On the table. On nightstands. On the floor beside the bed. The stairs. In the makeshift library/office while I patiently wait for my darling husband to build more shelves.

I love this story of our life together. I am thankful. Another season is upon me and I will not miss it.