My loud kid

It's 6:30 am.

Jeff and Megan, the night owls, are still sleeping. Calum and I are not night owls. When I woke up at 6, his light was already on. He eagerly peeked out of his room to see who else was up, and came rushing out here to join me. Now he's curled up in our papasan chair (those chairs from Pier 1 that look like satellite dishes) under a blanket, reading a book to himself that you just can't read quietly.

It's called "The Monster at the End of this Book, Starring Lovable Furry Old Grover". It was once my brother's favourite book, and he begged my parents to read it to him over and over and over again. Last year when I was on one of my many expensive visits to Powell's books, I came across this book again -- someone had thoughtfully reprinted it. I bought two copies, one for Calum, and one as a Christmas gift for my brother, thrilled at the idea of surprising him with this long-lost childhood favourite.

Well, wouldn't you know it? My brother doesn't remember the book at all. In fact, he had no clue why I would have given a children's book to him, and he left it behind at my mother's house when she passed it along to him. So now Calum has two copies. I can't believe this huge gap in my brother's memory. Does this mean he also doesn't remember the Super Grover stuffed toy he used to carry around everywhere? Memory is such a fickle and unpredictable thing.

Anyway, in the book, Grover, the blue muppet from Sesame Street with the annoying high-pitched voice, is terrified about the monster at the end of the book who (spoiler alert!) is actually Grover himself. It's very cute. He spends pages and pages trying desperately to convince the reader not to turn any more pages so they won't ever get to the monster. Like I said before, it's not a book that anyone, least of all Calum, can read quietly. I'd be amazed if the rest of the family is still asleep with all these loud cries of "YOU TURNED THE PAGE!!!!" and "STOP TURNING PAGES!" interspersed with me saying "Shhhhh!!!"

Say what you like about Calum's volume control; he sure knows how to do a dramatic reading.