So Lexi and I discovered the children’s summer reading program a few weeks ago. I say “discovered” rather loosely since it didn’t take much exploration. The library promotes the summer reading program every year, but this is the first year I’ve been curious enough to stop. Lexi loves it. For every ten books she reads, she gets a prize. But they also include her in weekly drawings, too.

I enjoyed watching her read and select a prize the first couple of weeks, but then I experienced this strange, unattractive feeling rise up in me during the third week. I tried to fight it, but I just couldn’t fight the feeling any longer. (Hey, isn’t that a song?) I was…gulp…jealous of my own child. How come she gets prizes for reading? What about me?

Yes, I did ask the librarian about this, but in a very mature fashion, of course. She kindly shared with me that there is an adult summer reading program. But…it’s not as cool as the children’s program. I can track the books I’m reading each week, but there aren’t any weekly prizes. There’s a drawing for a grand prize, but…that’s not the same.

Quit judging me. I can sense the eye-rolling right now. My jealousy isn’t genuine. It’s all in good fun. I am serious about reading though. Serious…obsessed…whatever you want to call it. I love to read so much. I have been taking Lexi to the library every Saturday since she was one. People used to say, “That’s so great that you’re exposing her to books early on to help cultivate her love of reading.” Sorry, parents. I took Lexi with me for purely selfish reasons because I wanted to be surrounded by books and leaving Lexi at home by herself as an infant wasn’t an option.

My husband does not always love my passion for reading. Just ask him. I have a book in hand all the time. Between stirring pasta noodles, brushing my teeth, talking to him…Reading is wonderful except when it’s not. But there is one significant different between mine and Lexi’s love of reading, My love of books was born out of a need to escape an often traumatic childhood. I know this about myself, and I recognize that I often use reading as a form of escapism.

But Lexi loves reading for all the right reasons. (Say that ten times really fast!) It’s about the pictures, the plot, the imagination, the colors…I feel great peace when she reads because I know she’s not running away from something, and that her childhood has been punctuated by so much joy and love.

I just asked Lexi to affirm her love of reading. Her response, ‘I don’t. I just like the pictures and the prizes (tattoos, bookmarks, etc…) I get from the library.”

Hahaha….I should have learned this lesson from the OJ Simpson trial. Never ask a question if you don’t know the answer.

Should I tell Lexi that she doesn’t need to read ten books a week to get a bookmark from the library? They give them away for free!

Nah…what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.