One of my favorite things is happening upon my children reading — or just looking at — books. Just as I was, my children are very lucky in that they are surrounded by books of all types. We have beautiful art books, biographies, loads of picture books, I Can Read books by the score, paperbacks waiting for them to grow up just a *little* more, left over board books still showing signs of budding teeth, books that explore Mother Earth, space, and those that imagine how the dinosaurs lived.
I’m not boasting. It’s just that with one parent in publishing and another who taught literature, it can’t be helped. Books are what we choose to spend cash on; we don’t purchase much else in great quantity. Except ice cream.
That means that whenever they are curious, they can wander around and pick up a book and leisurely flip through their chosen tome. And that’s how a love of reading is born. That’s how a strong basis in literacy is born.
Libraries are amazing, necessary, and pillars of their communities. But there’s something particularly special about having a book that is yours. Yours to keep and write your name in and put a sticker in and return to again and again. And like anything that amazing, it doesn’t always come cheaply.