Let the kid write the book

Both my kids love making their own books. It is an activity I strongly encourage because it is relatively quiet and can absorb their attention for more than 15 minutes at a time. It started off when they were younger with me stapling together a stack of paper, until I realized it was much easier to just buy ready-made notebooks with blank pages. When they were really young, the “books” consisted mostly of scribbles. It is amazing the kind of stories my children could tell when they “read” their books that only had squiggly lines in them. As they got a little older, they started using more recognizable drawings or stickers to express their stories. Around this age, they also went through a phase where pretty much the whole book was about how much they love me and their family. That was a sweet and heartwarming stage that I occasionally wish we could go back to. As they got even older and learned how to read and write, the stories became more imaginative and they started adding text to their illustrations. Whichever stage they were in, I have always enjoyed having them share their books with me and watching them grow as writers and illustrators.

On a recent rainy day, I was scrolling through the pictures on my phone when I saw that my photo app had put together a collection of pictures of all the outdoor water activities we have done over the years. It was fun looking through the pictures and reminiscing about the adventures we have had with the kids. So when my older child came to me and said “I’m bored…” for the twentieth time that day, an idea came to me, and I said “Why don’t we make a book with pictures of all the hikes we have done this summer?” My child loved the idea and soon we were looking through the photos on my phone as they picked out the ones that I should print out so they could include them in the book. Two hours later, they had created a book with carefully curated pictures of our hikes, thoughtfully organized and assembled, with supporting text capturing the highlights. The handmade book earned a place on our living room bookshelf.

Watching them work, I kept thinking about my own scrapbooks. In elementary school, most of my friends had one, and scrapbooking let young me express my creativity and record the milestones and events of my life. My scrapbooks were special because I made them for myself and shared them only with the people closest to me. I wish I still had them, so that I could share them with my children and put them on our living room bookshelf, right next to the book that my child made.