Have you read To Kill a Mockingbird? That's one of the aspects of that book, Scout's reading, that always stuck with me. As a small child I wanted to learn and Mom kept saying "they'll teach you in school." My kids both read when they started school. My daughter read so well that she complained one day in 1st grade that her teacher had her copies of Shel Silverstein's books out of reach.

I sent a note to both the kindergarten and first grade teachers telling them my kids could read. In the first grade note for my daughter I mentioned that sometimes she would skip over a word she didn't know and the teacher misunderstood. A note came back "reading without comprehension is not true reading."

I set up a parent teacher conference and Moonglow sat in the hall while we talked. Then I called her in, and I had commented about the poetry books, so I asked if we could use one of those. (Teacher had simply never had children who could read those to themselves before.) Moonglow read out loud, clearly, without hesitation, and with great pleasure, Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out. Her teacher watched this child read and I could see the wheels turning. By the time she reached

Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts,

the teacher knew she wasn't just learning, this child was an advanced reader.

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out.
She'd wash the dishes and scrub the pans
Cook the yams and spice the hams,
And though her parents would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceiling:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas and rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the windows and blocked the door,
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peels,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans, and tangerines,
Crusts of black-burned buttered toast,
Grisly bits of beefy roast.
The garbage rolled on down the halls,
It raised the roof, it broke the walls,
I mean, greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Blobs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from old bologna,
Rubbery, blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk, and crusts of pie,
Rotting melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold French fries and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky,
And none of her friends would come to play,
And all of her neighbors moved away;
And finally, Sarah Cynthia Stout
Said, "Okay, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course it was too late,
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate;
And there in the garbage she did hate
Poor Sarah met an awful fate
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much too late
But children, remember Sarah Stout,
And always take the garbage out.

And yet, with these skills, we read every evening at bedtime well into middle school, high school for Caroline, because they usually both listened. We read long novels, like the first 5 Harry Potter books, we read To Kill a Mockingbird, we read Frankenstein and we read lots and lots of poetry.

So, missing a goofy bunny wasn't a disaster for these kids. :)