Reading Books

I've never identified myself as an avid reader, but since having Celie books have become a major part of life. Morning, noon and night, we find ourselves aside a stack of stories, some with flaps, others with fur, and board books with numbers, colors and animals of every kind. While it's no doubt beneficial for a variety of 'academic' reasons--a recent commission notes "the single most important activity for building the knowledge required for eventual success in reading is reading aloud to children"--this isn't what motivates the activity. For me, it's the closeness of the snuggle and Celie's delight that never gets old, no matter how many times we revisit each tale. Who knew the repetition of "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You Hear?" could actually be exciting?

But most recently, reading has taken on an entirely new level of fun, as Celie has taken to reading to us.  She thoughtfully searches the shelves for the exact book that suits her mood, walks over and sets it on my lap as she climbs up to settle in and then, tracing the words with her little pointer, she reads each line outloud.  

I can remember how badly I wanted my parents to read to me each night before bed, how deflated I was on those occasions when it was already too late for stories.  Even worse, the frustration I'd feel when my Dad would start in on the Jack Begory Story, which I knew meant 'this is all you're going to get:'

I'll tell you the story of Jack Begory, and now my story's begun.

I'll tell you another of Jack and his brother, and now my story is done.

It was no fault of his own; Lord knows we'll most likely get to the point when the length of our bedtime routine will have to decrease.  But for now, I treasure the time and am sure there are few things more enjoyable than being read to by someone who loves you dearly--especially when the reader is 18 months old!

For more details on the commission's report, see Becoming a Nation of Readers: The Report of the Commission on Reading, by Richard Anderson, et al., 1985.