Every night, I read 2-3 stories to Laura before tucking her in at 8:30. Every night, she begs to keep one of those stories with her in bed. Every night, I sigh and allow her to take it.
She reads in bed by the soft glow of her mini, hot pink Christmas tree that has been her nightlight since December. I hear her little voice tell the stories she interprets from the pictures till late into the night. I peek into her room, to remind her that it's late and she must be up early in the morning. I give her five more minutes to read, before I go in again to take the book and tuck her back in.
The mornings are hard, waking my tired little bookworm. It's not a problem I was expecting at age 3. But I wouldn't trade her love of books for anything.