My six-year-old is addicted to reading. Anytime he is allowed to sit undisturbed (in the car, downtime at home, waiting at the doctor's office, etc.) he has his nose buried in a chapter book. He has read six chapter books in the past two weeks (4 from the Magic Treehouse series, Little House in the Big Woods and another one I can't remember from his school library). Today was the clincher. Caleb, a media junkie who savors every minute of the rationed media-time he gets each day, was riding home from school while a movie played on our minivan's entertainment system. While Ethan was engrossed in Swiss Family Robinson, Caleb tuned it all out and kept his face buried in his latest Magic Treehouse book, never even glancing up at the movie. This was an unprecedented event. Until today, I don't know that I've ever seen Caleb in the same room with a flickering screen without also seeing him staring at it. Yesterday, I took his book away for the evening as a consequence for being grumpy and mildly disrespectful at dinner. I don't think he has been that devastated since we withdrew his Peter Pan-pretending privileges when he was three. Who is this child?