My Mom Research Paper

1065 Words3 Pages

When I asked my mom why she read to me when I was little, her answer was surprisingly simple. "It's what you're supposed to do with kids," she said. I can't attribute my love of reading to my mom's comprehension of basic parenting alone, since my mom also read to my sister and she despises reading, but it was definitely a factor. Maybe I was genetically disposed to enjoy reading, maybe being the oldest child made me more inclined to sit still and listen, maybe I just subconsciously chose to like books at a young age. Whatever the case may be, there's no denying the truth that I have always absolutely loved books. There's a photo of me as a baby—I couldn't be more than two years old—and I already had a book clenched between my two chubby …show more content…

My mom would read me picture books here and there throughout the day, but my dad only performed per request. I liked hearing stories enough that I would beg my dad to read to me, especially at bedtime, when I would insist on not just one, but two or three books. Eventually, I showed some initiative and decided to "read" the books on my own. I would look at the pictures, then make up a story to match them, which introduced me to the creative process that I would later utilize in my writing. If I was proud of the story I created, I would recite the book for whatever unsuspecting victim was closest. With a wide smile and bright eyes, I would essentially ambush my parents with a book in hand. After I was finished telling a story, which probably involved princesses or monsters and no doubt had numerous plot holes, I would bounce up and down as I eagerly awaited their reaction. "Great job, kiddo," my dad would say as he planted a kiss on the top of my head. My mom would smile and offer me a cookie as a reward for the tales that I spun from my picture books. I would look at any book that was set in front of me, but like any reasonable human, I liked some books more than others and wanted to read my favorites over and over again. My parents would always graciously comply with my incessant requests. I loved all of the Dr. Seuss books, but Dr. Seuss's …show more content…

I used to constantly read, anytime I had a few spare minutes I would open up a book. It didn't matter where I was, which has actually proved to be slightly problematic. I have absolutely no idea where anything is because I always brought my book along in the car. One specific incident illustrates this perfectly. When I was in seventh grade, my dad, my sister, and I were going to go to my grandma's house. My dad had to stop at someone's house first, I didn't know who or why, and I didn't particularly care to know. The only thing I wanted to know is how Frodo completed his quest. So there I was, reading The Lord of the Rings, and the car rolled to a stop. My dad got out and did whatever mundane adult business he had to attend to. My sister fidgeted and tried to distract me, but by this point I had perfected the art of blocking out annoying younger siblings. When my dad returned to the car, my sister immediately asked if she could walk the rest of the way, and my dad said she could. I didn't want to get left out, but I wasn't overly eager to drag my book on a cross-country hike, which is perfectly reasonable considering that the book was approximately the size of a small fridge. I lifted my head up and saw a little white house in front of a cornfield, then asked "Can you drop me off when we get closer?" I was left utterly confused by the uproar of laughter that I received in

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