You pause as my finger slowly slides under the next word on the page.
Squirming subconsciously on my lap, you chew your lip in intense concentration.
I have to stifle a chuckle.
You're not pausing because you can't read the four-syllable-long word on the page.
You're a respected professional. You have a college degree. There's not a word in the whole Babysitter's Club series you can't read.
You're pausing because you don't know if this a word you shouldn't know how to read.
After months of "reading lessons," you still haven't deciphered my rules for which words you are and aren't allowed to know.
It's probably because there aren't any.
You dare a warning glance back at me, trying to see if you can gather more information from my face than the page in front of you.
"What's wrong, sweetie? Need help sounding this one out?"
You let out a little sigh of relief, nodding your head in affirmation, clearly believing you've avoided punishment for being too much of a 'smarty pants.'
A flutter of joy forms in my chest. "Teaching" you how to read has been one of my favorite parts of the day.
"Innnnn-deeeee-penn-dennt," I read slowly, carefully annunciating each sound, "Just like you used to be before you met me! Remember?"
You blush, throwing your head back into my chest as I take the opportunity to kiss the side of your head.
"That one wasn't even that hard. You could read it just last week, remember?"
You look back at me in fear as I continue.
"Maybe these books are a little bit too hard for you," I declare.
Panic fills your face as you realize you've escaped a spanking, but may have subjected yourself to an even worse fate.
"But, I..." You stammer out before I cut you off.
"No, 'buts'! I won't have you straining that poor little brain with books that are so clearly far above your reading level!"
You whimper as I set the book to the side and help you off my lap.
"I'm pretty sure we have some of those Magic Treehouse books in your room, why don't you go pick one out?"
You look from me to the book you were just reading, sitting on the side table. I can see it on your face. You know you'll never read anything that mature again.
"What are you waiting for?" I say, interrupting your train of thought, "Are you afraid those books will be too hard, too? I'm sure we have some Dr. Suess around here if..."
I don't even finish my sentence before you dart off, desperate to not fall any farther this afternoon.
Fuck, I love reading with you.
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