High excitement at the library this afternoon when the kids realised they could borrow a copy of Rick Riordan's latest book, The Son of Neptune. Hot off the press - it only came out today! The Girl is curled up on the couch right now reading it.
I recently finished another book I think she'll enjoy: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. It's a darkly funny reworking of Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book, with astute insights into death, life and coming of age. Thank you Maths Expert for the tip-off on that one.
The Boy's reading has been picking up of late, though he'd still rather listen. When the Man offers to read to him he demands either awful Enid Blyton (that woman had some issues, didn't she? "[George] liked Julian to say she was like a boy. She didn't want to be petty and catty and bear malice as so many girls did.") or smartypants Bill Bryson. The Bryson book of choice in this house is I'm a Stranger Here Myself (published in the UK as Notes from a Big Country). There's a lot of humour of recognition in it for us, with our British perspective on American life. At any rate, it frequently reduces the kids to fits of giggles, and the mere mention of cupholders - in any context - now always leaves them helpless with laughter.
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