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Maddie discovered Junie B. Jones in kindergarten and we spent a few painful months reading waaaaaaaay too much of that child’s escapades before Maddie finally grew out of the books and moved on to other, more well-written heroines. I was quite pleased to bid Junie B. adieu, and only saved the half-dozen books we’d bought out of sheer thriftiness.

I should have realized I wasn’t finished with the annoying child.

Yes, it’s Cora’s turn to be in love with the grammatically garbled star of waaaaaaaaaaaaay too many books. I spent Sunday afternoon reading not one, but two ENTIRE BOOKS aloud to my chortling five-year-old, trying not to roll my eyes at the deliberately mis-pronounced words. Fortunately, Cora’s got a better grasp of the English language than Maddie did at that age, because she’ll stop and correct Junie B. almost every time.

Which thrills my heart to no end, but also makes for an even longer reading experience.

Maddie’s currently re-reading her favorite Clementine books, and Saturday evening when I went from Junie B. to Clementine I had to actually stop and re-calibrate my brain for correct syntax and – dare I say it – actual plot lines. And Clementine’s not Jo Marsh, so we’re not talking about a high bar here.

Please, please, let this be a super-fast faze. I don’t think I can take a whole year of Junie B.