Captain Underpants

Super Diaper Baby

Goosebumps

Spongebob Squarepants

All of the above are serialized in book form. In my official position as a snob about what I read, I wouldn't so much as read one word of any of these - wouldn't dream of it. Why? Because they are trash. Before, all I had to pick on were Harleqiun Romances. Now I have quite a diverse selection of books to look down on.

However, I wouldn't do away with these books. Oh, no, not at all. Because they do serve a purpose. If Super Diaper Baby will get a child's eyeballs glued to a page, I am all for it. Reading is reading. If the choice is trashy or nothing, I'm all for trashy. Because reading is like anything else - the more you practice, the better you get. These trashy things will improve a child's reading level, even if it is in spectacularly small increments, and that is better than nothing. Or, God forbid, wasting away in front of the television.

Ever heard a mom say that her child NEVER read? Not anything? Not for money? Not for double chocolate chip cookies? No reading for ANY reason? And then about thirty more minutes into the conversation, when you've exchanged recipes, talked bad about both your relatives, and compared ailments, she will mention that all her son ever wants to do is work on his car. All mechanic, all the time. She will say "He even has a car magazine that he subscribes to, and reads it from cover to cover as soon as it comes in. I can't get him to do anything for the next couple of days. He even keeps back issues in the bathroom in a basket."

Wait a minute. I thought this kid didn't read.

Guess what? Magazines count as reading. Comic books count. The horoscope in the paper counts. The back of the cereal box counts.

Being snobby about a child's reading material will not get the job done, I assure you. Let your child read whenever and whatever. Please!

Thank you . . .
 

I'm ba-ack! How are y'all?

What has been happening:

My father-in-law died last Thursday. He had been a diabetic and heart patient for years, and just had bypass surgery in July. A friend of his was talking to him on the phone and thought he didn't sound right. He lived five miles away, and by the time the friend got there, his heart had given out, due to his blood sugar having dropped to 30. He has finally been reunited with my mother-in-law after 14 years.

I'm working at the same school I was last year - you know, the one where the principal told me the kids didn't need to know the fifty states. She has pretty much left me alone this year, so it's going pretty good so far.

Emily and Matt are still playing soccer. Anna Claire is playing soccer this year too - she switched from dance. Sometimes we meet ourselves driving to and from the soccer field. Fortunately, it's only a couple of minutes away.

What I'm reading:

The Last Convertible by Anton Myrer.
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Some Can Whistle by Larry McMurtry
Maggie-Now by Betty Smith

Some opinions thrown in for good measure

I'm sick of seeing Michael Jackson on the television. Let the man rest, please.

Yeah, Kanye was a jack . . . , but it seems like the president should have better things to think about.

Didn't we already go through this whole health care thing with Hill and Billy? And didn't it flop?

What's the difference in Jay Leno's current show and the old one?

I miss Patrick Swayze - I've had a crush on him since Dirty Dancing.

And now you know what I know. Bye!
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