Reading to Your Kids

I loved reading to my kids.  Starting before they were born, I would read to them.

I read them everything I could get ahold of.  Textbooks, Dave Barry, Dr. Seuss.  When our oldest one was a wee little one with colic, the one thing that could calm him down was the sound of us reading out loud to him.  He would scream and scream, and one of us would pick him up, snuggle him up close and read the exploits of Dr. Seuss or Dave Barry.

As he got older, he eagerly awaited our weekly trip to the library.  He learned to count early because we would limit him to 20 books a week.  I'd sit on the floor of the library with my basket, and count books with him.  There were a couple of times when he'd sit and look closely between two or three books until he could find the one book that he liked the best to make 20. 

Some of my favorite preschool memories involve trips to the library.  I enjoyed picking out new books and reading new books almost as much as the kids did.  I have a Longaberger Medium sized market basket that used to go to the library with us each week.  It was the perfect size.  All of our books would fit in there.  The kids picture books would fit in spine up, with all of the bright titles shining out at us.  When the books weren't being read, they lived in the basket so that we could keep track of them between library trips.

I have to admit, we lost a few books over the years.  We've paid "rental" on several books that were late.  But the cost of those fines and replacement fees pales in comparision to the knowledge that my kids are active readers.  And I have 2 boys.  Boys are known for being reluctant readers, and yet they both love to read.

Why?  Because we set the stage early.  Reading was something we did as a family.  It brought us great joy.  We spent time together, looking at books, snuggling our children, and exploring new worlds together.

The boys did love to read non-fiction.  I do not.  So, we'd save the non-fiction books for when Daddy got home, and in the evenings, he'd sit and read endlessly from "The Animal Encyclopedia"  or "The Way Things Work" or "The New Book of Knowledge".  And, I'd sit there close beside them, listening with glazed eyes while the kids asked questions and Dad would go into infinite detail about say, how a screw worked.  And then, he'd get out his toolbox, a few screws, some wood, and a screwdriver, and they'd sit around putting screws into wood for half an hour before bedtime, all the while talking about where you'd use screws, and why you'd use screws instead of nails in certain situations...

I guess we didn't do all bad.  The oldest one graduated with a 4.0 and is double majoring in Physics and Math.  The middle one has something around a 3.5, and is an avid reader of business books and journals (and yes, he is Dyslexic, too.)  And our daughter has close to a 3.8.

I bring this up because I saw an article on CNN this morning that says something I think most of us already know  "It's the parent's job -- not the schools -- to find the books to get your kids reading and keep them reading".  http://www.cnn.com/2011/09/28/opinion/patterson-kids-reading/index.html accessed 9/29/2011. 

We as parents truly are our child's first and most important teachers.  What we show and model to our children is what they will live.  I know, it's frightening to think, isn't it?  They are such little mirrors of us and what we do.... 

And giving them a love of reading, which gives them the power to unlock doors, find out more, and make new discoveries?  To give them the curiosity to ask questions and find out why things are the way they are and work the way they do and see if they can understand it better, or make it work better?

I think that's the greatest gift that we can give to our children.

What Enthusiasm?

I was tx the other day, and saw a wonderful commercial with young children running with abandon through the house.

So, what happens to that abandon as we grow older?

I just watched my two teenagers leave the house.  Heads down, dragging their feet, they walked out the door and down the hill to the bus stop.  I remember 10 or so years ago, when they used to race each other to the bus stop first thing every morning. 

The joy in watching the bus pull up to the corner was only matched by the excitement in their faces as they got onto the bus, looked at me out the window with big smiles on their faces and waved enthusiastically as the bus pulled away.

Now, I'm not allowed to go to the bus stop in the morning.   I am told to stay here at home, and not even allowed to kiss and hug them before they leave.

Our college age son was home on Saturday.  He was happy beyond words when we picked him up, and chatted incessantly.  We dropped him off Saturday evening.  He got out of the car, his eyes alight with excitement.  He ran across the street, ran up the steps to his dorm, turned and waved to us enthusiastically and then went inside.

Okay, so the excitement is there, but it leads to a rather disturbing question:  was it always there and we just missed it?  Or is it just that he's thrilled to be away from us?

I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that question.