These are the best of times. Kind of sacred, really. When we cuddle up warm and close, one or two little ones and me. With a stack of treasured books, carefully chosen, teetering piles hand selected by eager little readers. They grab the dog-eared ones. Those special friends, those volumes that have been toted to bed and to the car and to comfy chairs and quiet corners. Over and over.
We relax into each other, arms and legs lovingly draped all over, paging through, reading word after familiar word. They point out favorite pictures and giggle with glee at childish humor. And woe to me if I skip one single page. 'Cause they know the story. And it will be told. Each and every single well-worn word.
And I know I will look back some day. And remember these, the most favorite quiet times with my children's children. These precious little ones, cherished hearts of my heart, who've entrusted me with these most intimate of moments.
I love storytime.