Reading has always been a part of happy memories I share with my family. I remember sitting on my parents' bed and being read to as a three year old. I remember loving a haunted house book with Mickey Mouse in it and Cinderella--I have a sinking suspicion that I asked for many repeats of the same books over and over. When I was a little bit older my dad read me Treasure Island, a perfectly scary bedtime adventure story. Christmas time was a given for story telling--my mom would always have a few good Christmas stories she found in books, magazines or from friends and would read them aloud during some family time.A few times when we took an extended road trip, my mom selected a really good novel to read aloud. She read us the condensed (thank goodness!) version of Les Miserables, and then a particulary good read-aloud, The Count of Monte Cristo. I think we pushed her to keep going until she was literally hoarse.
Not only did I develop a love of good literature, but we had a lot of fun reading together. Listening to my mom read was as entertaining as any movie--and it brought us together. We could stop and comment on an interesting part, or something might foster a particular discussion. In any case it was a great family activity, and one that I hope to keep going in my family.
For Randy's birthday last year, I bought him a copy of Treasure Island--which coincidentally was one of his favorite movies growing up (the Charlton Heston/Christian Bale version). I can't wait for him to read it to our son.
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