Anyone that knows our family or our children would be hesitant to argue that we are lovers of the written word.
We are readers. Plain and simple.
We love to fill our home and surround ourselves with books and stories full of magical adventures, memorable friends, and lessons that warm our hearts. When we had children we knew without a doubt that we wanted to pass along our love of books and reading. We wanted our children to understand the joy and learn to appreciate it for themselves.
So we bought them books.
We bought them more books and more books and more books.
We read them stories at bedtime, in the middle of the afternoon, while they took baths, and whenever they craved the comfort of a story.
And the rewards have been endless.
We have a daughter that shares the same love of Goodnight Moon at almost six years old that began so many nights ago with her and her daddy on the couch.
We have a son that begs for reading time every night before bed and would gladly choose a trip to the bookstore over almost any outing.
That love of books that started in the comfort of a highchair is something he chose to share with his new baby sister shortly after she joined our family.
And, now, that not so little baby doesn’t hesitate to grab her own book and begin her own love affair with stories.
So, we read as a family and have the joy of riding trains, changing colors, comforting pets, dressing fancy, and reaching the stars at a moment’s notice.
We cherish our books.
And, we embrace the memories, adventures, and togetherness they give us.
How empty our lives would feel without our books…