In an effort to get into the Christmas mood, we have been monopolizing our local library’s copy of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” I suppose the whole not sharing thing isn’t very much in the spirit of Christmas, but we take it back to the Library every now and again so that someone else can have the pleasure of borrowing it too.
There was one week in November that we probably watched it fifty times. We watched it so often, in fact, that my illiterate three year old can now sit down with the book and “read” it to me. It’s really cute. He’ll drag that big old book onto his lap, with the crooked smile on his lips that he gets when he is about to do something smart, turn to the first page and start the story.
Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot…
He’ll read and turn pages; he’ll do the Grinch voice. There are some parts, though, with words he’s not sure of. I guess Boris Karloff doesn’t always annunciate that well. Those words that he doesn’t know for sure are the best.
He took the Who-pudding! He took the roast beast! Him…clim…shim quick as a flash. Grinch en…tush…sma…sham of Who-hash!
Or something like that. However it goes, I just love being read to. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy and it makes my little man proud. I think it is safe to say that he does the Grinch as well as Boris Karloff ever did.
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