My daughter is in kindergarten and her homework usually consists of a math or vocabulary worksheet, some practice sentences (this is her big money-making scam wherein I pay her one penny for every letter she spells right in the sentence — she’s making a killing!), and a take home book that we usually read together. So last night I’m in the kitchen making a green chile casserole for Friday’s dinner and helping Lola with her homework. I’m in the assembly stage of the casserole when she opens her take home reader and she starts reading the book outloud. She’s on page two before it sinks in: Holy crapamole! She’s reading that book! She’s reading it by herself! And this isn’t an easy book. It’s got a plot (little boy is frustrated because his new baby sister can’t play with him); it’s got a character arc (he gets over his frustration when he realizes what he can play with his little sister); it’s got a poop joke. And it’s twenty pages long. And she read the whole thing!!!! Ohmigodohmigodohmigod!!! My little girl is reading! Yippee! Go. Go tell the world! Lola reads books!
Denouement: After the book was read and the phone calls to interested parties made, Lola informed me that she was able to read the book because she is a robot. She even showed me her oil can. I thought it looked like a bent paper clip but she assured me it was an oil can. She drank from it and everything. It was nearly as impressive as the reading. Nearly.