My almost three-year-old son (A) and I have been reading a couple of books over and over again lately. I know that it's important for him to read the same books over and over and over again, but I'm not always too thrilled, especially since almost all the books are about trucks or other vehicles and machines.

But, if I allow myself to relax into the experience a little, there's always plenty to appreciate: his sweet little body sitting on my lap, his soft hair right under my chin, his insistence that we go beyond the text and notice certain details about the pictures, and his somewhat random attempts at counting.

One book has pictures of tractors with various configurations of two, three, or four lights. On every page, A asks, "Why does this tractor have X lights?" The number he gives may or may not correspond to the actual number of lights, and I have no clue why the tractor has however many lights, but none of that is really the point: he is beginning to grasp that objects can be counted.

Soon enough, he'll get the number right every time. And soon enough, he'll no longer fit on my lap.

So we read, and the tractor lights remind me to slow down and enjoy the moment.