I learned how to read when I was 4 years old. How, I don’t remember. But my mother was very involved. I loved stories. I had all of the Little Golden Books books. I would make her read them to me over and over. I think to the point where she was like…okay I am tired of reading these books to you, learn how to read. And I did. This pretty much is the technique she employed, when I ate too much as well. “Oh you want me to cook that again? How about I teach you, and you just make it whenever you want?” Thanks Mom.

That may sound a little harsh to some of you. But it was a good tactic. I think I turned out alright.

Back to the books. Growing up, We would be in the library once a week. And picking out books was a simpler time. She would just let me loose in the children’s section, and I pretty much just grabbed whatever 14 books I wanted. I usually started with series, because I like to do things in order. This was back when stories of the Sweet Valley Twins, Babysitters’ Club, The Boxcar Children, Babysitter’s Little Sister, Beverly Cleary characters such as Ramona and Beezus, Lowis Lowry, Roald Dahl books filled the shelves.

Feeling a little nostalgic, I went to the local library, and decided I wanted to reread some of my old favorite books. They aren’t there in anymore In it’s place are Bratz (there’s a book?) New American girls books with characters I don’t know (where’s Molly? And Kristin, and Samantha?) And other characters. Sigh. What if I want my children to read Roald Dahl? And other “classics”. I guess I have to start collecting them from old books stores. Or else they are doomed to read books like the Twilight Series (Not knocking it, I own all the books and the movies).