reading joy-arkiv

It started with a few books for little Alfred – and ended with both longing and a renewed love for reading taking center stage. Between dinosaurs racing motorcycles, a UNO tournament where the winner was not shy about the results, the smell of my coffee, Alfred’s foggy ice-filled glass, playful swims in the lake, the memory of a frightened Paddington, and a book about Elton John – this day held both the wisdom of children, my own reading challenges with dyslexia and ADHD, and a deep love for words, even when they hurt a little.

Read this post in Swedish → Böcker till barn och vuxna, barnlogik, dyslexi och ADHD

Hello and welcome to malix.se – my little corner of the world where everyday life has room to unfold.
Today, I want to share something that began with a couple of books for little Alfred and ended with me receiving an unexpected gift of my own. It became a day filled with childlike logic, moments of insight, and thoughts on what it’s like to read – when you live with both dyslexia and ADHD. But it was also a day where longing quietly stepped in.

Child Logic and Books That Make the Imagination Run

My husband had found some lovely books for Alfred. One was about animals you might encounter in the city, and another was about dinosaurs and vehicles. It didn’t take long before the books turned into competitions – who would win?

In one of the stories, it said the motorcycle was faster than the dinosaur. But Alfred didn’t agree with the author. His explanation stopped me in my tracks: the motorcycle couldn’t drive itself – it was ridden by a human – and that particular type of dinosaur ate humans. Just the smell of meat would make the dinosaur run even faster. Therefore, Alfred argued, the dinosaur would win, not the motorcycle.

So clever. So logical. And completely free from the learned limitations of the adult world.
Children have a way of seeing the world unshaped by what one “should” say or think. They are naturally sharp and unafraid to think differently. Sadly, that freedom often fades with age.

UNO Tournament, Coffee, and Foggy Glasses

After our book discussions, we brought out the UNO cards. The smell of coffee from my mug mingled with the sound of shuffling cards. Alfred had his glass beside him, filled with ice cubes. There was so much ice that the glass became foggy and cold to hold. Eventually, the water was gone – and Alfred sat eating the ice cubes as if they were ice cream.

We played over and over again. When we finally counted the points, he was very precise in reporting the result:

– I won eight times, and you only three!

His eyes shone with pride, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. For him, it wasn’t just one win – it was eight small victories in a row.

Candy Sneak with Grandpa – and Little Secrets

As if games and laughter weren’t enough, Grandpa had bought candy for Alfred’s visit. When no one else was looking, we snuck down to the basement together. There, in the cool air, we opened the bag and sampled our treats in secret.
The little conspiratorial glances and giggles made the moment even sweeter than the candy itself.

Lake Swim and Summer Days to Remember

We also managed to go for a swim. The sun sparkled on the water’s surface, and we swam side by side. Alfred had brought two snorkel masks – one regular and one full-face. He switched between them, diving like a little seal, curious about everything beneath the surface. We played, splashed, and let the time slip away between bursts of laughter.

Missing the Grandchildren – and the Conversations That Never Happen

Right now, as I’m writing, longing rushes in like a tide. Longing for the other grandchildren – and for the conversations that no longer happen.

How wonderful it would have been to hear both Emilia’s and Hugo’s thoughts about the world. If they had joined the conversation about the races between dinosaurs and vehicles, there would surely have been three unique ideas and pearls of wisdom. Three perspectives I would have treasured.

Oh… this hurts. The longing has grown heavy now. How are they doing? What do they think about everything going on? Have they forgotten us? Do they believe I’ve stopped loving them and thinking of them? Do they think this is something I’ve chosen?

No – I have to stop those thoughts. Catastrophe thinking never helps. I need to be here, in the now. But I miss them. So very much.

A Memory of Paddington and a Child’s Sense of Safety

A memory surfaces. When my son was little, I read him the book about Paddington. In the story, he was supposed to take a bath – but my son became frightened. I later understood why – in the book, the bathroom flooded. It scared him.

So, I changed the story. In our version, Paddington bathed safely and without trouble. After that, my son was no longer afraid to bathe.

That memory reminds me how we adults can make a difference in a child’s experience. Sometimes it’s just a small change in the story that opens the door to safety again.

When Books Find Their Way to Both Children and Adults

This time, it wasn’t just Alfred who received books. My husband had found one for me too. A week ago, at the campsite, I saw an e-reader up close for the first time. My husband’s brother’s partner had one. I asked if she missed the feel and smell of a real book. But she was very happy with it.

Later that week, we stood in NetOnNet, and I looked at an e-reader. My husband said: “No, that’s not for you. You don’t need it.” And honestly, I agreed. A book is a book. I like to hold it, turn the pages, breathe in its scent. It’s a whole experience.

Elton John, Reading Joy, and Reading with Dyslexia and ADHD

When my husband found Alfred’s books, he also found one for me – a book about Elton John. We’ve seen the movie many times, and I’ve listened to the audiobook before. But now I had it in physical form.

Book about Elton John – part of a personal story on reading with dyslexia and ADHD — Jag Elton John

Reading with dyslexia and ADHD is a special process. I easily lose my place, forget what I just read, and need to reread the same sentence several times. I’m a slow reader, but when a book truly captures me, it works. It can even become a cozy ritual.

A physical book lets me pause, return, and read at my own pace. And with the book light my son gave me last winter, I can curl up on the sofa and read when the rest of the house is asleep.

Callout – What About You?

Do you remember a time when a child surprised you with their logic?
And how do you prefer to read – on a screen or in a physical book?

Reflection

Children’s way of thinking is a reminder that wisdom doesn’t always come with age – sometimes it’s there from the start, before we begin shaping our thoughts to fit the world’s expectations.
And sometimes, when the longing is at its strongest, my self-esteem wavers. I start to wonder if I am a good mother, a good grandmother, if I’ve really done enough – and even if what I write is something anyone truly wants to read. It’s as if the ground beneath me shifts, and everything takes on a negative tone.
But maybe that’s exactly why I keep writing – to hold on to the moments, to remember, and to let someone, somewhere, feel just a little less alone.

AHA – Between the Lines

This post is as much about books as it is about listening. To children, to yourself, and to the memories that rise – both the ones that warm and the ones that sting.

Read this post in Swedish → Böcker till barn och vuxna, barnlogik, dyslexi och ADHD