Clark's Favorite Story

Clark has a favorite book now. Every morning and many afternoons, he goes looking for the book. When he finds it, he brings it to me, throws it in my lap, then says "more." After I read it, I must read it again or risk a temper tantrum. If I don't read it a third time, he will take the book from my hands and throw it at my face. If I don't read it a fourth time, he will cry inconsolably for a very, very long time.

The book is called Rain Feet.

It's a simple book with only a few pages. Clark likes pointing to his own feet when I show him the boy's feet. He likes pointing out the car on the second page. "Cawr!" He likes showing me the hat that the boy wears in the rain. Clark says "Haaah!" and pats his own head. Then on the last page, Clark always looks at the picture of the boy, asks "Dat?" and waits for me to tell him "That's a boy."

This series of events goes on and on and on until Clark gets bored. I know the words to Rain Feet by heart. I feel certain that I will never forget them. Like the pledge to the flag or the lyrics to my favorite song, I have simply said the words too many times for them to ever escape my memory.