You should know right away that I peaked in kindergarten. My most distinct memory from that year (1989 or so) is of reading aloud for my teachers and them crowding around, very impressed by my five-year-old skills. You should also know that I don’t like attention. I remember feeling uncomfortable with their recognition, so I purposely stumbled over the word “Pilgrims,” even though I could read it with ease. I don’t remember what happened after that. Nevertheless, the die was already cast. Contrary to my little heart’s wishes not to be abnormal, I was in fact a Reader. Capital R.

What is a Reader? (Capital R?) It’s someone who doesn’t go a day without cracking a book. Who would rather curl up with a novel than watch Netflix or hang out with friends. Who has shelves and shelves of books that cause a giant headache when it’s time to move. Someone who’s already read all of their book club’s picks. Most importantly, it’s someone who needs to read. If you’re here now, I probably don’t have to explain that last part to you.

I would call my family a Reading family, my dad especially. Every night of his life he has sat in the living room, in his “fancy chair,” as the grandkids call it, listening to jazz or some offbeat album he’s found and reading until he’s ready for bed. It’s a comforting ritual for his family, I think. We know where Dad will be each night. He picks books up at yard sales and secondhand stores and usually gives them away when he’s done with them. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve reading with my dad. Patrick F. McManus’ silly, semi-fictional memoirs particularly stand out. But it was always less about the book and more about being with my dad.

Now I’m a mom of four, pushing forty. I have teenagers down to a preschooler. I still read like crazy, but the habit has mostly morphed into audiobooks and eBooks. This distresses me. I saw somewhere once that if you want your kids to read, then read. Let them see you doing it. That certainly makes sense with my dad’s example. The problem is, my kids can’t see me reading a book I’m listening to, and if I’m reading on my phone, I might as well be scrolling Instagram for all they know. I want to do better. Above all, I know that I can’t make them read. And I’ve definitely tried. To paraphrase Regina George, “Stop trying to make reading happen. It’s not going to happen.” That is, it’s not going to happen if mom is forcing it. And it’s not going to be a book mom suggested. At least not for my teenagers. I take comfort in the fact that for all my book-craziness, I do remember not reading terribly much in high school. Between work, social life, and homework, it took a backseat. But it eventually found me again and I know it will find them again, too.

Moody teenagers aside, we also have some ADHD and mild dyslexia in our family and one of the many things I’ve learned through that experience is that not everyone needs to be a Reader. Most people are going to be readers (lowercase r) and that is still a wonderful thing. I’ll keep my shelves full of books that are there for them when they’re ready. I’ll mix the graphic novels my third-grader brings home from the library with Roald Dahl and L.M. Montgomery and Beverly Cleary. (Oh, Ramona!) When my daughter rereads the dystopian series that her friend lent her for the third time instead of the beautiful copy of Little Women I bought her for Christmas, still uncracked, I won’t stress it. At least she’s reading! And I won’t worry over my four-year-old who can’t seem to learn his letters when his older siblings were reading sentences at the same age. Everyone has their own pace!

Of course, above all, I’ll keep on reading. For I, dear friend, am a Reader.

We met Abby and her husband during college, over 15 years ago. They moved into our cul-de-sac with their adorable baby boy and I instantly loved them all. She had been studying anthropology. We watched American Idol together every week (our guilty pleasure) and even started a book club (straight up pleasure). In the years that followed, we shared Thanksgiving meals, outings with kids, and many conversations about pregnancy and parenting. Abby and her family lived for a time on the Caribbean island of St. Kitts. I don’t believe she knows just how much I look up to her and admire her many talents. But she is aware that I’ve been praying we live in the same cul-de-sac in heaven.

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I love reading, I always have. I was the kid you’d find reading with a flashlight long after tuck in and as an adult, if I can find a day to while away plowing through a good book, I’m there! As a parent, when my oldest started to follow in my footsteps, my heart soared. It’s been a completely different road for my youngest, who’s seven going on eight, and just started 2nd grade. While he can read well, he’s struggled to find that sweet spot where he wants to read versus feeling it’s a chore. He’s finally rounded a corner and here’s what worked for us. 

Let Them Read What They Want

In the early years, the rule was to read for 15, then 20, then 30 minutes a night. It was clear that the books sent home with school weren’t super engaging, so I encouraged him to find things or books he wanted to read. He read anything from Highlights, toy catalogs, picture books from his room and even Minecraft instruction books! Eventually this moved into graphic novels and finally onto early chapter books.

Share the Love of Reading

One of my son’s issues with reading was that it was a chore, a homework assignment. He felt that if he could read, wasn’t that enough? His dad and I would share what we read every day—news articles, recipes, travel books, books for pleasure, Facebook! We’d talk about how books could take you to new places—both real and imagined. We’d take him to bookstores, libraries, school book fairs and let him choose books. He’d watch his teen brother repeatedly read the Harry Potter series. We continued to read nightly to him. And we made him read—every weekday—even during the summer. As we worked with him, his confidence grew. The irony is that he didn’t see it!

Find Their Passion

Despite all the books on the bookshelf and watching the rest of the family reading, it was a challenge to find the book or series that really made his heart and mind sing. I reached out to his teachers and asked for their recommendations and based on that, we finally bumped into a couple series that did the trick. 

While he initially gravitated toward the Bad Guys series, I don’t love graphic novels for emerging readers—too many made up words and it’s hard to follow on the page what to read next. I also questioned the subject matter. I will make a shout out to Narwhal and Jelly, though. Super fun, but again, lots of made up words. My oldest liked Nate the Great, Calvin & Hobbes and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, but none of those fit my youngest very well. 

In the end, the Eerie Elementary and Dragon Masters series are what lit a fire for him. While he hasn’t finished the Eerie series, he’s still madly reading the Dragon Masters books and already plotting his next series, including tackling Harry Potter! 

His dad and I are thrilled he’s finally starting to see the joy that reading brings. Now that’s he’s truly back in class, he’s talking with his friends about what he’s reading and what they’re reading. What could be better?

This informative post was written by my amazing sister-in-law. She is fully committed to her family, running half and full marathons, her work as a project manager, and introducing others to Beautycounter products. She inspires me on the daily! She is gifted at finding deals on books, and as you can tell, keeps on looking until she discovers the ones her boys respond to best. Thank you so much for sharing your journey and helpful conclusions, Holly!

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