There are peculiar murbling noises coming from my eldest son’s bedroom punctuated by barks of laughter and strange snorts.
I can hear them from the kitchen.
Of course I shouldn’t be hearing anything from the kitchen at all as he should be fast asleep by now.
I should shoot upstairs and demand to know what is going on and tell him to turn his light off and go to sleep immediately as I know he’ll be exhausted in the morning.
Yet I haven’t the heart.
He’s reading Horrid Henry to himself.
For fun.
Not for school, not because he has to, but because he want to.
And it is a HUGE step.
Massive.
This is the boy who would shout and scream at me for forcing him to read.
This is the boy who cried himself to sleep because he’d never be able to do it.
This is the boy who got a 4E in his Autumn term assessment because he just wasn’t trying.
So I will listen to his murbling, snorting and laughing, I’ll revel in it while I can. He’ll soon catch on to the fact that he doesn’t have to say the words out loud though I doubt that will stop the laughs and snorts of delight.
Long may it last!!!!!
