true story: on reading

I would like to share with you how a four year old thinks.  This story takes place 8 years ago, November 13, 2004. We are living in the suburbs. I only remember this because I wrote it down. I found it on my computer last night.

Here is the setup. I love books. I love to read. I love to read to my kids. Storytime is a nightly ritual. I won’t go in to all the reasons we should read to our kids. You know already. It is also important to set a good example. Kids who see their parents read are also more likely to become readers themselves. So imagine my surprise by the words uttered by my son:

“You can’t just look at the book. You have to read it too, you know”.

It never occurred to me that all this time he thought I was simply sitting and “looking” at books without reading them. He says this in his sweater the exact colour of a tennis ball. It is so bright that his face is glowing.

“Honey, I am reading. I just am reading inside my head. I don’t need to read it aloud like how I read to you because this story is just for me.”


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