When my daughter started reading it was a sight to behold: you could see her eyes light up knowing that she now had the key to unlock every word put in front of her. They now have meaning, emotion and they can tell her anything she wants to know. And anything she doesn’t want to know too.
A few years have passed and, while it’s still magic, it has its terrifying moments. It’s hard to shelter a mind that can decode words. She is a voracious reader and has quickly surpassed her grade level which means more mature topics come up in books she is reading. I’ve had to explain the ugly things in life like war, hunger and poverty. I can count on having a late night knock at my door because of nightmares from a story about a certain boy wizard.Â
I know now that the only way to know if something is appropriate for her is to read it myself first. Which is exactly how the fire for reading has been re-lit under me.
