Choosing Books With Intention (and Why I Changed the Way I Was Doing It)

My oldest son, Aaron, is in second grade this year. We made it through the easy reader phase. Then the early chapter book phase. And during the last year or so, we've been settling into the chapter book (or middle grade or children's novel or whatever you want to call it) phase.

It's been a challenge.

I'm kind of surprised to hear myself admitting this, but it's true. Usually I love the book selection process, but it has not been easy with Aaron.

For one thing, he is totally impassive when it comes to books. Whatever I put into his hands, he will read. That should make it so easy, right? I could literally indoctrinate this kid with whatever I wanted, and he would just shrug his shoulders and go with it.

But it's not easy at all. I have nothing to gauge books off of. The only author he has ever admitted to liking without any prompting from me was Roald Dahl, and we all know Roald Dahl is in a class pretty much by himself.

I have never seen Aaron get so caught up in a book that he stays up late into the night because he can't wait to see what happens next. He never stops mid-chapter and says, "Mom, you have got to read this book!" He never tells me to get more of the books in a series or, alternatively, not to bring anymore of them home. If he comes to the library with me, he spends the entire time in the craft book section and just expects me to pick up something good for him.

For a long time, I selected his next book from book lists I felt I could trust. There are worse ways to pick a book for sure, but my method had one little flaw: I was trying to find books I had no interest in reading.

As you know, I read aloud to my kids a lot, and we've enjoyed dozens of excellent children's novels together (many of which Aaron has later reread). We've read the first books in many series (Paddington, Poppy, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, The Wizard of Oz, etc.). These should be excellent jumping-off points for Aaron, but I have hoarded them rather selfishly. What if I want to make the next book in the series our next readaloud and he's already read it?

So instead I gave him Origami Yoda and Captain Awesome and The Clubhouse Mysteries--not necessarily bad books but definitely books that I knew I'd never have the desire to read aloud, so they were safe.

The problem was, I actually had no idea what was in those books, and Aaron is not the type that will give a complete plot summary just by asking, "So, what was the book about?" The more he read, the more disconnected I felt . . . even though I was the one choosing the books!

But then, several weeks ago, I was reading Honey For a Child's Heart, and it was like a switch was flipped, and I could finally see quite clearly the holes in my reasoning and the problems with my book selection process. What was I doing?! Something had to change, and fast.

Let me insert one thing before I go any further: like I said before, I really didn't have a problem with the books I mentioned above. If Aaron had shown even a spark of interest in reading on in any of those series, I know I would have encouraged it. However, the problem for me was that since I had no interest in those books, I couldn't really engage in any sort of discussion with Aaron about them. Something was missing. Reading had become a chore for him (and for me).

I made some immediate changes, which included: using the Honey For a Child's Heart book lists, choosing a book to read along with Aaron, printing off Sarah Mackenzie's quick start guide with discussion questions, and letting Aaron continue on with series we'd already started.

Let me talk about each of these in a little more detail:

Use the Honey for a Child's Heart book lists

I already talked about this a little bit when I reviewed Honey For a Child's Heart: Gladys Hunt's book lists focus on classic books that teach good morals and values. She doesn't really include any trendy (or, as some like to label them, "twaddley") books on her lists, which I appreciate since those are fairly easy to find on my own. Her lists are good just for simply reminding me of good books I've read that I could pass along to Aaron. However, I am a little wary of handing him books from the list I haven't read yet simply because I didn't always agree with her age recommendations for books I did know and also, I don't think she really has a problem with recommending boring books (not that such a thing would necessarily be a problem since, like I said before, Aaron will read pretty much anything I give him). However, what I'm really excited about with these book lists is how they will help me with the next change I'm making.

Read a book with Aaron

I'm not talking about reading aloud to Aaron (that's something we're already doing a lot of and will continue to do). Rather, I want to choose a book that we can both read separately but simultaneously.  (This would never have worked with my previous method because I don't think I could have gagged down Origami Yoda, but now that I've opened up our options, there are literally hundreds of great books I've been dying to read that he would probably enjoy too.) This is where Gladys Hunt's book lists will come in handy because we'll have more ideas than we could ever possibly get through. Also, since I'll be reading it along with him, if I run into one of the problems I mentioned in the section above (i.e., boring or too advanced), I won't make him suffer through it. (In the last couple of weeks, we actually already read one together (Sideways Stories From Wayside School), and I'll be talking more about that experience when I review it.) Mike has also agreed to read a book here and there along with Aaron. Right now, they're both reading, The Wright Brothers: How They Invented the Airplane by Russell Freedman.

Use Sarah Mackenzie's quick start guide

Part of what was missing with Aaron was just any type of meaningful discussion after reading a book. I usually just asked him, "Did you like it?" and he responded with, "Sure," and that was the end of it. (Ironically, this question works like a charm with Maxwell. That kid needs almost no encouragement when it comes to chatting with me about things.) Sarah Mackenzie's guide is thoughtful, and she gives five questions that are easily adapted to practically any book. (However, I've discovered the first three questions don't work very well if I don't have any knowledge of the plot, which is one more reason for me to do some reading along with Aaron.) My plan is to use these questions both with the books Aaron is reading solo and with the books we are reading aloud as a family. They can be used either while we're still in the middle of the story or after we're entirely finished. Right now, it feels a little scripted, but I think the more we engage in meaningful discussions, the more natural it will become.

Let Aaron continue on with a series we have already started

Guess what? There are a lot of great books in this world. So many, in fact, that I am not going to have the time to read all of them out loud. That is the sad truth I have come to accept over the last few weeks. So even though I'd like to read all of the books in the Tales of Dimwood Forest or The Chronicles of Narnia, it might not be logistically possible. But just because I can't finish them all with my kids doesn't mean Aaron shouldn't have the chance to find out what happens. Now that I've loosened up my hold, we have so many more options, and I can keep him well supplied in books I already know I approve of (and having a discussion is much easier because I'm already familiar with the characters). And if I decide I really want to read a book aloud that he's already read, I know he's not going to mind listening to it again.

I'm curious: How do you choose books for your kids to read on their own? Or are they opinionated enough that you don't get much of a choice? Where do you go to find good books?

Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End by Atul Gawande

When I was growing up, we had a family friend who lived in a nursing home. On at least one Sunday every month, we would drive an hour to go visit him.

I dreaded these visits.

The rooms at the nursing home were small to begin with but felt even more crowded once my large family squeezed inside. We often had to arrange ourselves around a large contraption that was used to lift our friend from his bed to his wheel chair. A curtain divided the room in two, and our presence sometimes annoyed the resident "next door." The only personal thing I can remember about the room was a bulletin board where our friend could thumb tack up birthday cards or newspaper articles.

Walking through the halls, past the other residents, made me so uncomfortable. They looked bored and lonely and often unkempt. The smell that assailed my nose every time I walked through the glass sliding doors made me want to turn and run.

In retrospect, I can see how desperate our friend was for a little company. For his sake, I'm so grateful my parents insisted that we make those visits a priority, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the thought of entering that building still makes me shudder.

And after reading this book, I feel like my revulsion was totally understandable and justified. There aren't many worse places in the United States than a traditional nursing home.

Being Mortal is about the way we view life and death. It is about recognizing and accepting when the end has come and living out our life to the fullest in the meantime. This is one of the most fascinating books I've read all year and one that I haven't been able to stop talking about (and chances are, if you know me in real life, I've already subjected you to a synopsis).

Atul Gawande has been a surgeon for over fifteen years. This book was prompted in part because the more surgeries he performed, the more he realized that these operations often sacrificed quality of life in exchange for (possibly) more time, and that trade off didn't sit well with him. Doctors were avoiding the very types of discussions their patients needed most. In this modern age, science has come so far that doctors can keep people alive for a very long time, but it's not always the best solution. Death is a natural process, and Atul Gawande believes that as we become more comfortable with acknowledging and discussing it, we can live out our days more fully and conscientiously fill them with things that bring us joy.

The first section of the book focuses on the elderly--an ever-growing percentage of our population. The average human being can now expect to live to nearly 80 years old. That's incredible. But this ability to live longer is not necessarily because we've slowed down the aging process (we really haven't) but reflects the choice we now have to keep patching ourselves up with medication and surgery. This is good. But at what point are those extra years more of a burden to yourself and your family? What sacrifices are worth it in order to gain a few extra months?

Atul Gawande is in no way suggesting that once you're sick of life, you speed up the process of dying. What he's saying is, parents and children need to have very frank discussions about how they want to live out their final years. I can't think of a single person who would choose to spend their last days in a nursing home where they sit around in a wheelchair all day watching TV or playing bingo and don't get to decide anything about the food they eat or the schedule they keep or the medication they take.

Of course, it's much more complicated than I'm making it out to be (the mental health and financial security of the individual being two of the biggest factors), but I was just so riveted by the options and heartbroken about our friend who didn't get much of a say at the end. In their prime, those who are now elderly contributed so much to the world, and I wince to think of what many of them are reduced to at the end and the lack of respect that is shown to them. (As a side note, it was also depressing to hear that even those doctors who would like to specialize in geriatrics aren't because, even though that is one of the fastest growing populations in the world, that is exactly where the funding is being cut from.)

The second half of the book focused on individuals who are dying, not necessarily from old age, but from accident or disease. As you might expect, this was the harder of the two sections to listen to. Many of the stories that were shared involved people who were still in their prime with a family or a career or dreams that they were still very much involved in.

One of the stories impacted me especially because of the similarities it shared with my sister-in-law, Alisa, who passed away earlier this year from melanoma. The woman in the story was in her 30's and pregnant with her first child when doctors discovered lung cancer. The cancer was much faster-growing and aggressive than Alisa's was originally. This woman ended up getting less than a year whereas Alisa was able to fight for eight years. But when the end finally came for both of them, their stories were strikingly similar because of one word: hope.

These two women were willing to do anything (and I really do mean anything) for a few extra months or weeks or even days. When your life is being mercilessly ripped away from you too soon, even the smallest increment of time is precious. Alisa was in constant search of a cure, and every time she tried something new, she hoped it would be the magic she needed.

In the book, Atul Gawande tells about another patient who was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

"The news was devastating. But then he began looking at the graphs of the patients' survival curves. Gould was a naturalist and more inclined to notice the variation around the curve's middle point than the middle point itself. What the naturalist saw was remarkable variation. The patients were not clustered around the median survival but instead fanned out in both directions. Moreover, the curve was skewed to the right with a long tail, however slender, of patients who lived many years longer than the eight month median. This is where he found solace. He could imagine himself surviving far out along that long tail."

It was that same long tail that tantalized Alisa. There's no way to know where you're going to fall on that curve. Doctors can't make that prediction and neither can their patients. In fact, one of the things I found so fascinating about this book was our inability to define what dying is. When confronted with the question, "Am I dying?," doctors are unable to answer it. They realize that technically they could keep people "alive" for a very long time, whether they're actually doing much living or not.

I saw Alisa struggle with this question herself. Even when her condition took a serious downhill turn a few months before her death, no one realized (and/or accepted) that it was the end. She had bounced back so many times before. Surely it could happen again. But in March, she wrote, "Hospice was whispered around the room yesterday. The word is a whisper." That description has stayed with me ever since because it's so true. I think we all have a certain fear of hospice because we see it as a resignation to fate. There's a certain finality in that word. It sort of feels like giving up or giving in.

But I can honestly say that this book completely changed my opinion of hospice (and actually, it was already in the process of being changed when I saw glimpses of it during the final few days of Alisa's life). It is so much more than just helping patients not feel any pain. It's doing what many doctors are afraid to do: holding frank, honest discussions about goals and priorities so that patients can do the things that are most important to them for as long as possible. Atul Gawande said that there are so many positive results that come from these discussions that "if end-of-life discussions were an experimental drug, the FDA would approve it."

In the book, Atul Gawande tells a really interesting story about a patient of his that he was operating on. I can't remember all the details (and I no longer have the book from the library), but I know that she had a type of cancer that was metastasizing rapidly. He had basically two options: a less invasive procedure that would bring her immediate relief or a much more dangerous surgery that could potentially do a lot of damage with the slight chance that she would see some longer-lasting results. She opted for the less invasive procedure because by that point, it was more important to her to be able to actually do some of the things she wanted to with her family rather than just have more time.

Going back to the story I mentioned above about the man who hoped that he would be among those that would beat the odds and live longer than eight months, he got his wish. And because there are stories like his (and frankly, like Alisa's as well, who lived for three more years after they discovered twenty-five tumors in her brain), it makes hope a thing to hold onto for as long as possible.

The thing that I found interesting about these end-of-life discussions, however, is that you don't wait until you know you're at the end before having them. You have them early on, while you're still relatively healthy. You talk to your doctor about your priorities. One of the patients Atul Gawande mentioned said that as long as he could watch football and eat, life would be worth living. These priorities would, of course, be different for every patient. But I think having such a discussion makes it easier for doctors to help guide their patients towards the best course of treatment because they know what things are not worth giving up in exchange for a few more months.

This review has gone on far too long, but, if anything, let the length be a witness to how much I loved this book. Atul Gawande is an excellent writer, and the subject matter is of course deeply personal to each of us because of the unavoidability of death. One of the stories in the book is about Gawande's own father, and I think this made the book even more meaningful because he wasn't just speaking as a doctor but also as a son. It will definitely be one of the books that will stay with me the most from my reading this year. Highly recommend.

A Little of This and That in November

Wow, November went by in a blink. Here's a bit of what we were up to:

Marveling . . . at the season's first snowfall. Clark was very impressed, but also confused. When I told him it was snow, he pointed to his nose. Even now, several weeks later, every time he sees snow, he points to his nose. Silly boy.

Writing . . . a guest post for What Do We Do All Day. I talked all about audiobooks and shared a few tips for how we've encouraged our kids to listen to them. You can read the entire post here.

Loving . . . my early Christmas present--a new vacuum cleaner. Seriously, I don't think a present has made me this happy in years. I remember laughing when I read Emily's Quest earlier this year and Emily refused to marry Andrew because she "felt sure he was the kind of man who would give his wife a vacuum cleaner for a Christmas present." Luckily, Mike knows the way to my heart and disregards everyone else's advice. (It's the Shark Rotator, if anyone's interested.)

Listening . . . to Christmas music on the sly. I like to think that I'm all serious about not listening to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving, but I can't deny that there were many times when I got in the car and flipped to the Christmas radio station, just to see if it was a song I liked.

Blabbing . . . with Suzanne. If you missed our first Blab, you can watch the whole thing here. We'll be chatting again in a few weeks. Let us know if you have any ideas for a future episode.

Hiking . . . with our friends, Brent and Jen. Jen and I have been planning this hike for four months. And yes, by the time we finally went, there was snow on the trail (but not much). It was a great way to spend a cold November morning. 

Suffering . . . through sleep training Clark. He turned eighteen months on Saturday, so it was past time. I don't really stress about my kids' sleep, so when Clark woke up once or twice a night, it just wasn't a big deal to me. Until one day, it was. And that night began the training. Overall, it's been very quick and painless.

Participating . . . in the #picbookaday challenge on Instagram. It's been fun to share some of my favorite picture books. Even though today is the last official day of the challenge, I will continue to share many of our current favorites, so follow along!

Freaking . . . out about Clark's ability to climb out of his crib. We tried putting him in the toddler bed and one word: DISASTER. I didn't know what we were going to do until someone made the brilliant suggestion to turn his crib around (since the back is higher than the front). That bought us a few more months of confinement, and I am so relieved.

Going . . . to the movie theater as a family. We never do this, but over the Thanksgiving weekend, we decided to take the boys to see The Good Dinosaur. (We didn't take Clark though. We're not crazy.) It was fantastic.

Meeting . . . our new niece, Sadie. Oh my goodness, holding her made me want another baby so much (but I reminded myself that the first three months don't last forever and then you have a child you are responsible for raising).

Avoiding . . . shopping. I don't love shopping at anytime of time of the year, but come November, I'm ready to just forget it completely for two months. I can't stand the lines or the parking or the crowded aisles or the stress of all the sales. I'm switching entirely to online shopping, thanks.

Spending . . . Thanksgiving with my brother and his family. We were a much smaller group than usual, and it was quite lovely. The food was delicious, and both families kept lots of leftovers.

Polishing . . . off the last of the Thanksgiving pie for breakfast.

Reading . . . fluffy Christmas novels that have absolutely no substance to them. Listening to My Life in France by Julia Child.

Guilting . . . the boys into liking Farmer Boy. Before we started reading this, I may or may not have said, "This is one of my favorite books of all time. You have to like it." Luckily, that's a book that can carry its own weight. They haven't even had to try to like it. It's just so good.

Walking . . . through the new Norman Rockwell exhibit at the BYU Museum of Art. It was so good. Seeing so much of his art in one place made me really grateful that he was around to capture some really critical and important years during America's history. He's kind of the Dickens of art . . . he really knew how to tell the common but insightful moments of the everyday.
 

Decorating . . . for Christmas. There were about thirty minutes where we thought we'd lost Aaron's and Bradley's boxes of ornaments. I was going to cry. Thankfully, they were hidden in plain sight (that's what happens when you take off the lid to the Christmas tub and four sets of grabby hands try to pull things out--trust me, I gain more sympathy for my own mom every year I let my kids help with the decorating).

Mailing . . . Christmas cards. I finished addressing and stuffing them over the weekend, and they're going out today. I address all of them by hand, which I love because it gives me a chance to travel down memory lane and remember our dear friends from various periods of our life.

What were you up to this month?

What I Would Do For Fun (if I Couldn't Read)

When Suzanne and I did our first Blab last week, we stumped ourselves with this question: "When you have time to yourself, what's your favorite thing to do (besides reading)?" We had the most difficult time thinking of anything that wasn't reading, and I eventually went with some incredibly lame answer along the lines of "sit in a quiet room by myself and think" (which isn't entirely inaccurate, but wow, could I sound any more boring?).

In the days since, this question has come back to me again and again, mostly because I keep thinking of other things I love to do besides reading and wondering why I couldn't think of them at the time. (I also think it's funny that one of the things I did think of is actually something I rarely (maybe never?) do by myself: go on a walk. It's not a bad idea; I'd probably enjoy a walk by myself; but the truth is, I almost always go with someone else because I like having someone to talk to.)

So what would I do if I had time to myself and couldn't read? Even though I thought of more things, they're all still pretty boring. Turns out, I'm just a boring person. (It also turns out that many of them are still reading related, even if I'm not sitting down with a physical book. Big surprise right there.)

1. Knit or crochet (while listening to an audiobook) - I learned how to knit earlier this year, and it has since become a favorite hobby. I'm currently making a vest for one of my boys (probably Bradley, but if it doesn't fit him, hopefully it will still fit someone!). The tactile feeling of the yarn and the rhythmic clicking of the needles make this a very relaxing, almost therapeutic, activity for me (and if I can listen to an audiobook at the same time, it's even better).
2. Wander around a bookstore - I can't believe I forgot this one! One of my very favorite things to do is go to a bookstore and write down all the new titles I want to go check out from the library. I love the smell of bookstores (different from a library because all the books are new), and I love being surrounded by shiny, gorgeous books. 
3. Work on blog posts - If I'm being honest, this is probably how I spend almost all of my available free time. I always have so many ideas bouncing around in my brain, and I love being able to get some of them written down (so that I can use that opened up brain space to think about more posts).
4. Clean - I'm not even kidding. I love cleaning my house if my kids are away and won't immediately undo my work (if they're home though, I basically feel the opposite because it seems so pointless). It's energizing to use my hands to bring order to a space. (Also, this is another great activity to do while listening to an audiobook.)
5. Fold laundry - see above
6. Take a nap - I've probably taken a nap a total of two times this year, but come January, our church schedule is switching back to 9:00am (we've been on the 1:00-4:00 schedule), so you can bet I'm soon going to be taking a nap every Sunday afternoon.
7. Reserve books at the library - one of my favorite nighttime activities is to go through book lists and blog posts and award lists and max out my library card with holds (and sometimes Mike's and Aaron's cards, too).
8. Go to the library - I often go there to write a blog post or just escape the kids for a half hour after Mike gets home.
9. Read blog posts, scroll through instagram, waste time on the computer or my phone - Sometimes this is exactly the kind of break I need because it is almost completely mindless (that's not exactly a compliment, but you know what I mean).
10. Write in my journal - this is part of my evening routine, which means that I always spend at least a few minutes writing at the end of the day. It feels so good to gather my thoughts and write.
11. Work on a bigger project - this might be organizing some part of the house or sewing or crafting (right now it happens to be addressing Christmas cards). I don't always have something going, but when I do, it's nice to make some progress on it.
12. Put together a puzzle - this happens more by accident than anything else. Usually my kids have out a puzzle, and I catch myself putting it together when I have a quiet minute.
13. Write letters or thank yous - I like writing to my brother who is currently serving a mission or my grandma or just jotting down a quick card of thanks to a friend or acquaintance.
14. Sit by myself in a quiet place and think - there it is. I wasn't lying when I said it before. I love being by myself and doing absolutely nothing.

When you have some time to yourself, what do YOU like to do (and you can't say reading!)?

Little Men by Louisa May Alcott

I've read Little Women by Louisa May Alcott a couple of times but never delved into any of her other books. One of my goals this year was to read another classic from a female author I already knew I liked, and so I decided to try Little Men.

I don't know quite what I expected, but I had no idea that in this sweet story about Jo March Bhaer and her rambunctious houseful of boys, I would find my parenting bible. I'm not even kidding. This book touched me to the core and inspired me in more ways than I can say. Jo is not so much a kindred spirit to me as a mentor. Our personalities are nothing alike, but her sympathy towards and astute handling of boys are nonetheless attributes that I want to emulate and adopt.

As you might remember from Little Women, the Bhaers were gifted the large estate of Plumfield to turn into a school for boys. When this story opens, the school is comprised of ten boys plus the Bhaer's two sons, Rob and Teddy, plus Jo's niece, Daisy, so thirteen children in all. It's a lively bunch, and it only grows more lively when Nat, a young orphan, joins the group. (As Nat is waiting in the entryway, he sees a boy come crashing down the banister, and I had to laugh when it said that it was "a crash that would have broken any head but one rendered nearly as hard as a cannonball by eleven years of constant bumping." I'm pretty sure my own Clark is well on his way to such a head as that.) Nat is a quiet boy who desires to please his benefactors (although he does have one ill habit of telling lies that must be dealt with), and he settles into the mix fairly easily.

The real drama begins when he invites an acquaintance, Dan, to also come and live at Plumfield. Dan has had a hard life, and it shows in his anger and bitterness. His manners are coarse, he won't follow the rules, and he picks fights with the other boys. Mr. Bhaer is worried that this is one boy they won't be able to help. But Jo sees the goodness in him and won't give up on him.

Some people will read this book and see a quaint story told with old-fashioned language. But in spite of this, I found much of it so relatable and brilliant that I was constantly jotting down ideas and dog-earring pages. For example:

• Jo has a "Sunday closet" filled with "picture-books, paint-boxes, architectural blocks, little diaries, and materials for letter-writing." She says, "I want my boys to love Sunday, to find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn, in simple ways, lessons more important than any taught in school." Sundays are always tricky days for us around here because our kids get bored and restless, so I really loved Jo's foresight to reserve some enjoyable activities specifically for Sunday--both to make it a more enjoyable day and to teach the boys how to enjoy the blessing of rest.
• Jo keeps a record of each boy throughout the week and then meets with him one-on-one on Sunday to go over that record. She praises him for his good choices and offers some constructive criticism for the mistakes he's made. Each boy knows that she cares about him, his well-being, and his improvement. He knows that she's watching him throughout the week and observing his triumphs and his setbacks. He knows that he can openly talk to her about anything. This is the way to build solid, trusting relationships with each other.
• Jo allows the boys to have a pillow fight every Saturday night. She recognizes a boy's need for wild fun and gives it to him. But then, when it's time for the pillow fight to be over, she expects them to stop and respect her wishes. This is only one example of the natural give-and-take that is a part of Jo's relationship with her boys. She respects them, and they, in turn, respect her.
• Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer value the outdoors and know how important they are to a boy's health and well-being. Lessons are important but only in moderation.
• Jo values the treasures of little boys. At one point, Dan says, "I suppose you threw away my bundle of plunder?" (little shells and stones and birds' eggs he found on his journey). Sadly, if it had been our home, he probably would have been right, but Jo says, "No, I kept it, for I thought they must be treasures of some kind, you took such care of them." She just as this quiet kinship with boys and their interests that I admire very much.
• She's realistic. When they're going through a pleasant, peaceful spell, she thinks, "It is too good to last." She knows that raising boys is an exciting ride and that it's never wise to get too comfortable with the current setup. 

But all of these lessons paled when I read the chapter about Dan coming home. Dan, as I mentioned above, has had a difficult life. He doesn't trust anyone, and he wants the upper hand on everything. He doesn't believe Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer when they say they're happy he's come to stay with them and that they know he can turn his life around (and really, even though they say it, they don't entirely believe it themselves). Dan repeatedly breaks the rules, and Mr. Bhaer shows mercy, but eventually (after an incident involving smoking in the bedroom that leads to a small fire), Dan goes too far and they make the difficult choice to send him away in the hopes that he will someday come back with a changed heart.

When Dan eventually does indeed return, it is one of the most touching scenes in literature I've ever read. Jo catches him fast asleep behind a little haycock, and when she wakes him, he's still half-asleep and says, "Mother Bhaer, I've come home." She knows then that he's ready to try. I was worried from the outset that Dan's story would not be believable. I had a feeling that he would be reformed, but he was so convincingly rough and mean-spirited that I didn't know if I would be able to believe any sort of transformation or change of temperament.

But here's the thing: When Jo goes in to tell Mr. Bhaer than Dan has come back, she says, "But, dear, you'll be very kind to him, no matter how gruff he seems. I am sure that is the way to conquer him." And with that sentence, I knew it was true. Love can overturn the roughest of souls, and if anyone could show pure love, it was Jo. She went on to say, "He won't bear sternness nor much restraint, but a soft word and infinite patience will lead him as it used to lead me." This said even more than the "love will win him back" statement. Jo somehow inherently knew how much they could push him and when it was time to hold back, and she knew it because she had a bit of that rebellious spirit in her as well. She felt a kinship to Dan, and she was willing to believe in him because of it. I feel like I could read this chapter over and over again and there would still be lessons to glean about how to parent with love and compassion.

The book ends on Thanksgiving. I didn't know it would, and so you can imagine that I was giving myself high-fives over my perfect timing. Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer spend the day rejoicing in all of the wonderful progress that their boys have made. It's been a fruitful year, and they feel so blessed. The whole group that is gathered in their home sing these words,

Summer days are over,

Summer work is done;

Harvests have been gathered

Gayly one by one.

Now the feast is eaten,

Finished is the play;

But one rite remains for

Our Thanksgiving-day.

Best of all the harvest

In the dear God's sight,

Are the happy children

In the home tonight,

And we come to offer

Thanks where thanks are due,

With grateful hearts and voices,

Father, mother, unto you.

The boys gather round Father and Mother Bhaer. They hold them in a gigantic embrace. As I read the final lines, there was an almost tangible feeling of love and goodwill. They know the days ahead will not be perfect (even in the midst of this happiness, Jo was probably reminding herself, "It is too good to last"). There will be more bumps in the road, more Sunday one-on-one sessions where they talk about the notes in the little notebook, more consequences (both pleasant and unpleasant). But each boy knows that Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer's love for them is unfailing. It will always be there--a constant beacon to guide them through the storms of life.

And at the end of the day, that is exactly what I want for my own little men.

Honey For a Child's Heart: The Imaginative Use of Books in Family Life by Gladys Hunt

I first heard about Honey For a Child's Heart many months ago on a Read-Aloud Revival episode. I can never resist a good book list, so a whole book full of good book lists sounded right up my alley. (It was subsequently mentioned on almost every following episode, which further cemented my desire to look it up.)

A couple of months ago, my education group was planning out the next nine months of meetings. We each volunteered for a month to choose a book and host, and this is the book I went with. I was glad to finally have a reason to read this book and discuss it with other book-loving moms.

The book is divided into two sections. The first hundred or so pages make a case for why reading in the home is so wonderful and why every family should make it a priority. Of course, I loved these chapters. Reading with my kids is my very favorite way to spend time with them, and it's always nice to get some outside validation that what I love is actually what is best for them.

Gladys Hunt said, "Good literature teaches more than we know. Example always speaks louder than precept, and books can do more to inspire honor and tenacity of purpose than all the chiding and exhortations in the world."

She also used this section to talk about how to choose good books. Every time I go to the library without a plan (i.e., without twenty books already waiting for me on my hold shelf), I feel so overwhelmed (unless of course I'm by myself with twenty minutes of free time--then I'm happy to aimlessly peruse the shelves). The problem is, when I feel like I'm under a time constraint to find a worthwhile book for Aaron to read, the pressure of sifting through a lot of poor literature in hopes of finding the gold is really daunting.

Gladys Hunt defines a good book as "the quality of the idea, the skill of the plot, the depth of the characterization, [and] the distinctive style of the author." I agree with all those things, and I believe I can often recognize it when I find it. The problem is, finding it.

That's why book lists (from people you know and trust) can be such a gold mine. When other people have done the work for you, it's so easy to just click and reserve, click and reserve, and within ten minutes have a stack of books worth reading. I have many websites and blogs I trust for book recommendations (look at Where to Find a Good Children's Book and Nine Blogs I Visit For Book Recommendations for some of my favorites), but I really loved the second section of this book, which was list after list after list of tried-and-true books for children. (In fact, at one point, I closed this book, looked over at Mike and said, "I can't take it. There are too many good books to read.")

Seriously though, the book lists in this section are awesome (and I should know since, being the nerd that I am, I actually read this entire section cover to cover because it's so much fun to read a book list). I feel like I need to buy this book so that I'll be able to reference it whenever I'm reserving books at the library (a favorite nighttime activity for me).

That said, these aren't perfect lists, and I'll tell you why.

First, she recommends so many books that are currently out of print. I love discovering old classics, but it is really frustrating to hear about a good book and not be able to check it out from the library. I almost never buy books that I haven't already read, and I'm certainly not going to pay rare book prices if it's for a book I don't already know that we love. So I'm torn: I liked finding out about new books, but if I can't read them, it just makes the forbidden carrot so much more agonizing.

Second, I discovered that when she was summarizing a book I already knew, I often found her descriptions so bland and/or misrepresentative that I maybe would have never picked up that particular book if I was going off of her recommendation alone. The problem with that was since I felt like she didn't do justice to the books I knew, it made me distrust her a little with the books I didn't know.

Third, the organization was a little bit random and haphazard. If I had been skimming rather than reading this section all the way through, I think I would have missed a lot of good books because I would have assumed they were somewhere else rather than where they actually were. Also, some of her summaries were placed in the most bizarre places. For example, she listed several of the books in The Wolves of Willoughby Chase series, but didn't put her summary until after the third book (which made it look like the first two listed weren't part of the same series (also, she classified this as a "young adult" novel and, as you might remember, we just read this book last month, and my kids loved it, and I'm still trying to figure out what was young adult about it since the girls in the story are about nine years old).

All of this makes it sound like I didn't like the book lists but quite the opposite is true. I just wanted you to have a heads up on some of the things to watch out for if you take a look through them. From these lists, we've already found some new favorites, such as Pete's a Pizza by William Steig, Meanwhile by Jules Feiffer, and Max Found Two Sticks by Brian Pinkney.

This book made me reevaluate the way I was choosing books for my kids, particularly the books that Aaron is reading on his own. I'll be sharing some of the changes I've made in a future post, so stay tuned for that. And meanwhile, go get this book and start making more conscientious choices for your family too.

The Book Blab Episode 1: Introductions Plus Two Favorite Food Books (includes show notes)

Suzanne and I had so much fun recording our first official Blab last night. It was great to chat with her, and I'm already looking forward to doing it again next month. It definitely took me out of my comfort zone, but that's a good thing, right?

In case you missed it, you can watch the entire video below. Here's a breakdown of what we talked about:

0:44 - How Suzanne and Amy met

01:12 - Why we decided to start a video series

02:44 - A little bit about Suzanne

04:09 - A little bit about Amy

06:42 - Questions and Answers

• 07:10 - Favorite color
• 08:08 - Summer or winter
• 09:23 - Favorite Thanksgiving side dish
• 10:03 - If you could go anywhere in the world . . .
• 11:20 - Most exotic trip
• 12:29 - Restaurant preferences
• 14:19 - Favorite music (in which I say that Clair de Lune was written by Chopin?!, which just goes to show you how nervous I was)
• 16:01 - Favorite household chore
• 17:30 - Free time activity
• 19:08 - Early bird or night owl
• 20:36 - Dog person or cat person

22:55 - Food book recommendations

• 23:38 - Suzanne: Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist 
• 25:43 - Amy: Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl

28:56 - Conclusion

Links from the show:

• Suzanne's post about missing the seasons 
• Amy's trip to Australia  
• Suzanne's decluttering tips 
• Suzanne's review of Bread and Wine 
• Amy's review of Garlic and Sapphires  

Stay tuned for our December show where we talk about giving books as gifts, book-buying habits, gorgeous editions, and two more book recommendations!