When Aidan was a baby, we would read books to him every night. Most of his favorite books were by Eric Carle—The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, etc. When he was two, he picked up Brown Bear, Brown Bear and recited the entire book. He would flip to the next page to see what animal came next and then proudly say, “I see a ___ looking at me!”
As we approached his third birthday, he didn’t want much to do with books at all. He would flip the pages silently, and could no longer point to the book characters that I would ask about. I can remember reading him The Very Quiet Cricket with tears rolling down my cheeks. Aidan was now MY very quiet cricket. Would he ever be able to say, “hello” to anyone again? At that time, I could only hope.
Almost two years later, and Aidan has become my not-so-quiet cricket. I thought about this last night as we read books during his normal bedtime routine. I asked him, “What should we read tonight?” and he answered, “The story of the Very Quiet Cricket!” Every time he turned the page, he was telling me something new about each of the bugs—their colors, what type of sounds he thought they made, what they were doing in the picture. It was awesome! We don’t have nights like this all the time, but when they come, I breathe the moment in as much as I can.
My little cricket is no longer quiet.
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