"With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?" - Oscar Wilde
Harper was napping soundly in the nursery, so Xander and I had sometime to bond over reading books. Xander, I'm sure, will be as big a book worm as I am! He would pick out a book from his bookshelf, and scurry over to me in the lounge chair, where he'd climb up on my lap and we'd proceed to read the selection of the moment, with full voices and exclamations. We had gone through a half dozen books in this manner when suddenly, mid-run back with a book, Xander stopped in his tracks. He paused, looked at me, then turned right around and took off down the hallway, past the kitchen and into the front room (which is technically a dinning room, but we use it as my "yoga office").
All is quiet... not a peep from the front room. So, I go investigate. I make my way down the hall, and go through the kitchen to peer into the front room. Xander doesn't let me cross the threshold before he puts up his hand and says, "No Mama! Go back! Back, back!"
I retreat through the kitchen realizing that he's trying to find some privacy in order to poo... but I creep around the other way just to peek and make sure.
Sure enough, he's standing behind my desk, reading his "Bugs" book and grunting.
Now, how and when did he learn this "bring a book to the loo" thing, I'll never know... neither my husband nor I bring "reading material" into the bathroom. But I know a few family members on my side that do it! Hmmm.... maybe it's genetic?