Morgan at The Little Hen House created this blog hop and as a mother of two, I felt it was my duty to participate. HELL YES this job sucks sometimes, but the rewards far outweigh the frustration, so I think I’ll keep it. You know, just for shits and giggles.
My confession? I don’t like reading to my kids.
**GASP**
How many of you just put your hand to your mouth in utter shock and decided I was a terrible excuse of a mother? I wouldn’t blame you really, it makes me feel awful too. But no matter how hard I try to force myself to like it I just can’t seem to find any enjoyment behind it.
Sure, I’ve read plenty of children studies that conclude babies that are read to end up being brilliant and world leaders and famous even, and I’ve probably deprived them of the chance to be astronauts, but holding a squirming child and reading Dr. Seuss in a sing-song voice makes me cringe.
Admitting this is freaking me out actually.
I love my kids more than anything in the world. I make mistakes. Daily, even. But when I put them down to bed without a story I know they aren’t judging me, because I cuddled, I kissed them, and I told them “I love you”.
I am sure there are studies out there that also prove children that are constantly shown love grow up to be brilliant too. Maybe not astronauts though, those kids read at 18 months. Freaks*.
I’d like to think my kids are going to be full of love. For me, for themselves, and for their own families, because that is how I am raising them.
So, I’m sorry Dr. Seuss, my son will learn to read in preschool, just like his older sister. And she’s rad. And probably going to be famous one day. She told me.
* I’m only kidding. If your child read at 18 months, you are my hero. And congratulations on raising an astronaut!
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