Books are my “thing”. I’d go as far as to say my vice, even.
I hardly drink. I don’t smoke. But I read. I read when I’m happy, and when I’m sad. I read when I’m relaxed, and when I’m stressed. I read myself to sleep every single night, and because of that, I don’t get nearly the hours of sleep that I should.
I care more when a favorite author visits my city than when Taylor Swift does.
So it should be no surprise that my kids grew up surrounded by books. We had baskets of books in every room, and in both cars. We even had bath books that were waterproof so that we didn’t ever have to stop reading.
Bookstores and storytimes filled our preschool days. We loved No, David!, Skippyjon Jones, Pinkalicious, Rainbow Magic, all of the Wimpy Kid, Big Nate, and I Survived books, and anything by Mo Willems.
I encouraged family reading times because it gave me breaks in the middle of the day to sit and read my own books while my kids read theirs.
And now, I have four kids … who don’t read.
Pleasure reading doesn’t compute with them. They barely make it through any required reading for school. Suggesting they grab a book and read is as wild an idea as me suggesting they forage in the woods for dinner.
I see other kids with books in hand, and I’m not going to lie, I’m jealous. So. Freaking. Jealous. They are living the childhood MY kids were supposed to live.
The apple fell very, very far from the tree on this one.
Now that my kids are getting older, I’ve filled boxes and boxes (and boxes and boxes) with books and donated them. It was easier for me to give away all their baby clothes than it was for me to give away all the books.
But I had to.
Because the only thing sadder than a child that doesn’t read books is a book that doesn’t get read.
I guess you can lead a child to the library, but you can’t make them read.
No matter our intentions as parents, we need to meet our kids where they are. And if mine aren’t cozied up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket with a book they just can’t put down, well … maybe they’ll have to meet me where I am because that’s a spot I’m not moving from. But I’ll accept that the only book in hand will be the one in mine.
