Wednesday, August 17


I love to read.  I like to read magazine, newspapers, fiction, non-fiction... anything!  It is a treat to curl up with a book at night before going to sleep and escaping to another place.  It is fun to wander around Barnes and Noble for hours.  Flying is made so much easier by treating myself to a new magazine or paperback.  It seems that my daughter has inherited my love of reading.  She can't be pushed or bribed to read, but will pick up something to read on her own.  That even reminds me of myself.  I hated being told in high school and college that I had to read a certain  novel because it was never what I wanted to read.  Daughter is the same way.  I have tried to get her to explore new series or more difficult books, but she always resists.  Eventually, she will pick up those items and realize that she really enjoys them.

As  much as she and I love to read, hubby hates it.  He has not read an entire adult book since we've been together.  He sees no benefit or pleasure to be gained.  However, he has read to daughter since the day she was born.  Whether it was Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, Rolie Polie Olie, or Magic Tree House, hubby has taken the time to read to/with our daughter.  We alternate nights putting her to bed and story time is the last few minutes of the day.  He looks forward to that special time as much as I do, even though it involves his least favorite activity.  I am so pleased that he allows us both to enjoy this hobby, and that he has encouraged it in our daughter.

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