A Little Bookworm

When I was in the first grade, my parents spent a whole week persuading me into reading a "chapter book." Being the little brat that I was, I refused. I was completely happy with five-page books involving Dr. Seuss and dogs running. Looking back on it, I feel that it was an attempt to salvage my childhood. Maybe I didn't fully comprehend it at the time, but it was a last plea to stay at the age where I didn't do grown-up things like read a book with actual chapters and plot lines.

I think it was a Wednesday when my mom woke me up to get ready for school, placing Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business in my hands, asking me to just give it a try.

With a sigh, I opened up the book. I knew I would hate it.

But within moments, I was literally engulfed in the book. My heart started racing like it does now when my boyfriend says something sweet. I was r-e-a-d-i-n-g. I was a big girl. I felt like superwoman. I finished the book before I got home from school that day, begging my parents to buy me more. I read a book a day, sometimes even more, when I was that age. It was, and still is, one of my favorite things to do.