Something Remembered

In the process of ordering a birthday present for a certain young man (keep that quiet, though) I recalled something.

It's from a few years back. Sage had fallen in love with Naomi Novik's Temeraire books from listening to the first couple on audio. Later, he picked up a copy of the third book at the library, anxious to read it himself. He got home and dashed up to his room, book in hand, ready for some dragon action.

Time passes.

I go up to his room at some point, and find him in bed, red-faced and teary. Crying.

It took me a little while to get out of him what was wrong. It was that he couldn't yet read the book himself. The sentences were too long, vocabulary above his reading level, words too small on the massmarket pages.

Much hugs ensued. My boy, brought to tears because a book he so wanted to read was, at that point, hard for him.

I've been there too. Haven't we all?

I don't mind saying that he chews through big books now with nary a tear. Times change. Kids grow.