Books are dangerous. They can fill your head with all sorts of ideas and stories...or they can bruise your nose. In this case I'm talking about the latter.
E's too smart for his own good lately. He's getting bored of his usual toys and he's starting to figure out our routines. Part of that means that he knows his bedtime routine well enough that he knows bedtime stories are just the last thing keeping him from food before bed. So he cries while we read.
Which is all why I was reading to him in the middle of the day yesterday. To try and outsmart him, and keep him from getting bored. We were reading BJ Novak's The Book With No Pictures, and E loved it. After we were looking at the cover because who needs pictures when you have black and white words? Black and white is exciting! So exciting, E decided he needed a closer look. By throwing himself forward off my lap into the hard cover.
Suddenly books weren't so much fun. Next time he cries while we read might be because he's rightfully scared of the book. Maybe we'll stick to soft covers for a little while. Either way, poor dude ended up with a sore face yesterday and needed some consoling and reassuring. Poor guy.
We've since recovered and have spent our time doing some less dangerous tasks, like trying swings for the first time. E's not so sure, though, and thinks they could use some seatbelts and padding.