February 25th 2023.
(Image Source: https://metro.co.uk) I'm thrilled to be able to share the pleasure of reading with my kids
Putting down Immy’s toothbrush, I looked at my two children and smiled. ‘What do you guys want to read tonight?’ I asked.
As Theo, five, and Immy, three, both leapt eagerly to their bookcase and started exploring the shelves, I couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.
It may not sound like an incredibly electrifying scene, but this regular ritual is without a doubt my favorite time of the day.
I’ve adored reading since I was a child and reading, in turn, to my children and sharing that joy brings its own distinct, special, joy.
In preparation for World Book Day next week, I’ve been reflecting on my affinity with the written word.
It began at a car boot sale when I was approximately six, and I spotted a hard-backed edition of The Naughtiest Girl In The School by Enid Blyton.
After my parents gave me the required 10 pence – voila, it was mine.
I devoured – it’s the only way to describe it – that book over the next couple of nights, astonished at the portrayal of a boarding school life that was so dissimilar to mine, set decades before I was even born.
I’m thrilled to be able to share the pleasure of reading with my own children.
(Image Source: https://metro.co.uk) I was hooked; I couldn’t get enough
After finishing Naughtiest Girl, I was unstoppable. I tried other Enid Blyton books, I adored Roald Dahl novels, I became obsessed with The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High.
I was hooked; I couldn’t get enough. My dad would take me and my sister to the library every Saturday morning without fail and I’d spend hours browsing the shelves. It was my own personal treasure trove, where I agonised over which six books to pick each week.
Whenever I went on holiday abroad, pre-Kindle of course, my parents would be shocked when they opened my suitcase and saw the pile of books I’d sneaked in after they thought I was finished packing.
Choosing what to study at university was a simple decision and during my English Literature degree, I discovered the wonders of Gothic literature, the Brontes and Shakespeare.
The only thing I would change about my husband Tom is that he read more – not for me, but for him. I genuinely feel he is missing out.
So during both of my pregnancies, as well as talking to my bumps on the way to the train station, or my walk to the office, I’d often read my unborn babies books aloud in bed at the end of my day.
Sometimes it would be whatever novel I was reading but on other occasions, I’d pick a children’s book, especially for them.
‘Start them early,’ I joked to Tom.
(Image Source: https://metro.co.uk) It’s become a nightly custom
I kept going without interruption when they were born. I’d read to them off and on during the day, but I’d always take two or three stories to bed when I was putting them down for the night. It was a habit I started when they were just months old and one that we follow, without fail, now.
I'm thrilled to be able to give my kids the gift of reading.
Putting down Immy's toothbrush, I smiled at my two children. 'What book would you like to read tonight?' I asked.
I may not appear to be very excited about it, but this nightly ritual has become one of my favorite times of the day.
I have been passionate about books since I was a child and now I can share that joy with my own kids.
In anticipation of World Book Day next week, I have been thinking about my deep-rooted love for written words.
It all began at a car boot sale when I was about six and I spotted a hard-backed The Naughtiest Girl In The School by Enid Blyton.
After my parents gave me the required 10 pence – I was the proud owner of that book.
I absorbed it over the next few nights, astonished at the depiction of a boarding school life that was so different to my own, set decades before I was born.
I was an addict; I couldn’t get enough
After that, I had an insatiable need for more. I read more of Enid Blyton's books, I loved Roald Dahl stories, and I was hooked on The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High.
I was an addict; I couldn't get enough. My dad always took me and my sister to the library on Saturdays and I would spend hours examining the shelves. It was like my own little wonderland, where I agonized over which six books to take each week.
Whenever I went on vacation, before the Kindle came out, my parents were shocked when they opened my suitcase and saw the pile of books I had snuck in after they thought I was done packing.
Choosing which subject to study at university was a no-brainer for me, and during my English Literature degree, I discovered the pleasures of Gothic literature, the Brontes and Shakespeare.
The only thing I would change about my husband Tom is that he reads more – not for me, but for himself. I truly think he is missing out.
So throughout both my pregnancies, in addition to talking to my unborn babies during my walks to the train station or the office, I would often read books out loud to them in bed at night.
It’s become a nightly ritual
Sometimes I would read the novel I was reading, and other times I would choose a children's book specifically for them.
'Start them early,' I said jokingly to Tom.
I kept up this habit when my children were born. I read to them off and on during the day, but I always took two or three stories to bed when I was putting them to sleep. It was a pattern I started when they were only a few months old and one that we still stick to without fail now.
[This article has been trending online recently and has been generated with AI. Your feed is customized.]
[Generative AI is experimental.]
