Farmer Boy

I passionately loved all of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books as a child. I remember 3rd grade recess and lunch periods spent sitting in a bathroom stall, reading away. Recently, my boy, who just started 2nd grade, has been studying pioneers. They went on a field trip to Fort Langley, and they're reading Little House in the Big Woods. So I borrowed Farmer Boy from the local public library to read to the boys at bedtime.

That was Saturday. I read the first two chapters to my boy on Saturday night. Step-son wasn't interested in giving it a try, so he read himself a Pokemon story.

(I'm sick of Pokemon. I thought it was high time we read a new chapter book. My boy and I read Stuart Little, Charlotte's Webb and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane last year, and he enjoyed them all, and I enjoyed reading a true story, written by a true writer with a voice and a style.)

Yesterday was Sunday, our lazy, do-nothing-for-the-whole-morning day. The boys played video games, and I read Farmer Boy. The WHOLE thing! I devoured it. I want to live on Almanzo's father's farm!!! What an amazing place, what a wondrous lifestyle! Everything was hand made. And the containers and dishes they used! Bushel baskets! Six quart pans for milk! I want them! Cellars for storing potatoes and apples and carrots and corn and salt-pork and flour you grind yourself! I'm totally enraptured.

I can't wait to re-read ALL of these wonderful stories.