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Center for Kids Who Can't Read Good


Rinn has a bedtime routine. It includes a bottle, a bath, a story and then he puts himself to sleep while listening to classical music and cuddling this hideous stuffed bear head that has a blanket for a body. The classical music thing is his choice, not mine. I assume that since I taught ballet classes until I was 36 weeks pregnant, he finds those sounds the most comforting or let’s be honest, you could snort a pack of No-Doz and eat crack rock and that stuff would still put you to sleep.

This may all seem fairly traditional, and for the most part you’re right. Unless you’re one of those people who only bathe their children every couple of days in which case you’re thinking “A bath everyday? This woman has lost her damn mind.” To which I respond, babies are dirty; they sit around all day spitting up on themselves and crapping in their pants. Neither of which I do, and I still try to commit to daily showers. Plus Rinn likes tub time and who am I to take that away from him?

Rinn also likes reading, well the act of reading; okay so maybe he only likes grabbing at the pages of books and trying like hell to crumple them in his tiny fists. Give this kid the coupon section of the newspaper and he’s as happy as if he were in a barrel full of boobies. Still, I enjoy our story time.

Here’s where things get a little unconventional. We got through his entire book collection in the first couple of weeks and let’s be honest, how many times can you read “Runaway Bunny” without snapping and screaming “damn it you little rabbit, quit you’re shit and go home with mother rabbit before she gets grey hair, or hare.” (I’m glad I could fit that little zing in there.) So, while I still have the liberty of picking out our bedtime stories, I use this time to catch up on my own reading. We’ve covered everything from Great Expectations to US Weekly. We closely followed Snooki’s pregnancy and Summer fashion trends. Other nights I would introduce him to the works of Wally Lamb or Janet Finch. Rinn’s even listened as I read articles from Parenting on how to tackle the upcoming and inevitable tantrums after which, he looked up me with those big green, sometimes blue, eyes as if to say “don’t worry mommy, I’ll never refuse to eat my vegetables or call you a poopyhead.” He also asked that I save a “My MIL is my BFF” editorial so that one day he can properly prepare his future wife. He is so thoughtful.


Rinn and I caught reading marie claire.

Side note: I was not a huge Miley Cyrus fan prior to this issue, but after reading the interview I've decided we are soulmates. Miley, call me, let's get lunch.


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