Do you remember the last time you read a great book? Every page was enticing. Every word, delighting. Maybe that book taught you something. Maybe it changed your life. Whatever the case, by the time you’d finished it, you were glad it had come into your life.
Now imagine a world where you’d never learnt to read. Never seen words. Never learnt to interpret their meaning. What a different world that would have been for you, that world where you had not learnt to read.
And have you ever thought about how it all began? That book you just read — how did you get there? How did you become the literate, intelligent person that is reading this blog and wondering where the author is going with all of this?
I can tell you how.
Someone sat you down and read you your very first book.
Someone sat with you while you agonised over every new word in your reader. Someone painted your school library bag with puff paint and glitter, just so you would come to cherish library day.
Someone loved you that much.
A few months ago, when Baby C was about three months old, I sat him down and read him his first book. My tiny baby on my knee. He had no idea what the words meant. He still has no idea. But that doesn’t matter one little bit because reading is so much more than just knowing what the words mean.
Reading is an adventure. An awesome, smiley adventure.