Reading

I went into the bathroom last night to take a shower. Found my six year old sitting on the pot, reading. Six. Year. Old.

Reading.

On the toilet.

“Whatcha reading?” I ask.

“Instructions.” He says.

“Oh?” I inquire.

“Yes. I want to play a game, so I’m reading how to play. Want to play with me in the morning?”

“I’ll be at work when you get up, kid. So you’ll have to play with Molly.”

“I can’t. Molly’s not old enough.” he announces.

“Oh?” I ask.

“See?” and he points to the “Ages 8 and up” label.

“Um, you’re not old enough either, Sean.”

“Yea, but Mom said if I can read the instruction I can play the game.”

“Seems fair.”

“So I read them. Twice. Its an easy game to play. If she could read, even Molly could play it.”

“Well, Molly hasn’t gone to Kindergarten yet.”

“I know. Maybe I’ll teach her to read tomorrow. Then we can play.”

Maybe I’ll come home today, and Molly will be reading the stock quotes. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me.

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