bella's kindergarten class has a reading program where kids are encouraged to track the amount of time spent reading. when bella gears up to add to her minutes she carefully selects a book, grabs a watch marty loans her for the purpose and hunkers down in her reading spot of choice. once settled she opens the book on her lap, positions her finger on the first word to be read, trains her thumb over the stopwatch's start button and with olympic-like accuracy depresses the button and utters the first word aloud at the very same moment.

bella came to me and said she was tired of reading on her own and asked if i would read to her (which is allowed) i was glad to help. in her hand was a birthday present i had given her, edward tulane. so we sat down, snuggled close and i leafed to the first page of the text. bella asked if i was ready. i said i was. the high tone of the stop watch grabbed my attention and i looked at it in her hand. bella turned to me frantically, "READ FATHER! START READING! READ! THE TIMER'S GOING!". startled i was barely able to mumble a childlike 'huh?'. i heard the high tone of the watch beep again. bella shifted in her seat to look me in the face. "father! i asked if you were ready and you said you were. when i start the clock you have to start reading." oh. sorry. now i understand. she reset the watch and asked, more slowly this time, if i was ready. i positioned my finger on the first word of the page and reported that i was. i heard the high tone sound and i shot out of the blocks with bella-exacting precision. now that i was properly schooled, bella and i moved through the book with routine ease, until late in the story.

tulane is a creative, adventurous yarn that takes an unexpectedly serious turn towards the end. serious to the point that i found my spoken words beginning to crack with emotion. nestled on the couch one sunday morning when bella and i were the only ones yet awake, i found myself fighting back tears as i read the final pages. in lieu of this i started taking long pauses between sentences trying to compose myself. each unnatural silence was met the same "read father. you're not reading. you gotta keep reading. do i need to stop the watch because this time can't count?" unsurprisingly, these repeated scoldings kept my clenching chest in check and allowed me to champion my way through the last moments of this short but touching novel. much of the sentiment was lost on bella, but it certainly hit the mark with her reading partner.

and in case you're wondering why i cared if i cried in front of my five-year old daughter, i don't have an answer. i was just compelled not to.