Secret Garden

Growing up, I had two favorite books - ones I would read over and over until the book jacket was worn and the binding delicate. The books were Deenie, about a young teen with scoliosis who has to deal with a mother concerned for her beauty, and The Secret Garden, about a spoiled brat who comes around after finding a garden to call her own. This weekend, as I rested my aching body while my husband and daughter were out of town, I found myself reading The Secret Garden to my son. Now, my son is typical 5 year old boy. His idea of fun is running and jumping into the wall or burping the alphabet. But to my great delight and surprise, he is enjoying this book. We have read to Chapter 15, and this morning he asked me to read more before school. Sharing this book with him is like sharing a part of myself; it represents my history, and his enjoyment brings me closer to him. Even so, as he and I finish this book and I look for others to read to him I think I will save Deenie for my little girl. Something tells me no matter how patient my son is, hearing a girl fret about whether the boy of her dreams will feel different about her in a back brace might be something better left for mother/daughter bonding.