Sharing stories with my children has always been a cherished part of my day, serving as a foundation for our bond. Whether during car rides, dinner, or game nights, those moments are filled with connection. However, nothing compares to the tranquility of curling up with a book together.
My twins are 8, while my eldest is 10, and I’ve been reading to them since they were infants. Our home is filled with an array of books – from board books to graphic novels – adorning their shelves and bedsides. I typically read to my twins simultaneously; although they share similar interests, they each have unique preferences, requiring some negotiation to find the perfect story for the night. My eldest daughter and I have journeyed through various book series together, but recently, our routine has evolved as they begin to read independently.
While I treasure our nightly story time, I find myself missing those evenings when they opt to read on their own. I miss the shared laughter and conversation that filled the air. Yet, I feel immense pride watching them grow into their own individuals. On nights they choose to read alone, I often dive into my own book. Recently, after a conversation with my eldest, I started reading along with her, snuggled up close.
My 10-year-old daughter was thrilled when she decided to embark on the Warriors series. This decision came weeks after I had encouraged her to give it a try, following our shared reading adventures with titles like Animal Inn and the Harry Potter series. She usually prefers to read stories independently after I introduce them to her. However, instead of moving on to something different, she wanted me to re-read some familiar Wings of Fire books each night.
When she finally agreed to start the Warriors series, I eagerly anticipated reading it together. To my surprise, she announced, “Oh, I’m reading them by myself.” I felt a pang of disappointment, wishing to share this journey, but I was also thrilled she was venturing into new territory.
As she delved into the first book, she couldn’t help but share the plot with me, expressing frustration that I wasn’t familiar with it. “You can read it too!” she exclaimed, a sudden realization shining in her eyes. Honestly, I wasn’t overly excited to sacrifice my reading time for feral cats. But could I carve out time to read it on my own?
Recognizing her disappointment in my lack of knowledge about her current read, I realized she missed our shared story connection. I quickly downloaded the book and listened to it while cooking and winding down for bed. We eventually read the second book side by side—she read the physical copy while I followed along on my Libby app.
It became clear that my willingness to engage with her stories meant a lot to her. I’ve done the same with my twins, diving into titles like Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Phoebe and Her Unicorn to keep our conversations alive, even if they aren’t my top picks. I still read to them most nights, but this new routine allows us to maintain our nightly bonding moments.
I know there will come a time when they might prefer to simply say goodnight with a quick hug or may feel embarrassed about their interests. I won’t force myself into their space, but as long as they want me involved, I’ll find ways to connect through books. While I may not pry into their journals or personal notes, I won’t hesitate to explore their interests and engage with them about the books they read. You can find more on this theme in one of our other blog posts here. I believe we can still share conversations about the same stories, even if it means picking up the occasional book from their school reading list.
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In summary, reading continues to be a vital way for me to connect with my children, allowing us to share experiences and conversations. By adjusting our routines as they grow, we foster an environment of exploration and growth. I look forward to navigating this literary journey with them, cherishing each moment we have together.