Call Me a Dreamer

I think most everyone in our family has had a thing for print, but it was mostly a solitary sport. I had bedtime stories every night, something more sophisticated than I could read yet. I would also bring my Mom books and ask to be read to. As I grew older the readings morphed from "story time" to her randomly reading out loud from whatever her book at at the time was, usually a particularly funny or profound part. Often it would mean I'd read the book after she was done with it, which was how we shared books during my teen years. But I don't think I ever read to her until my teens, and then it was more just selecting a delectable bit or two rather than "performing" a whole novel. (But which I have always lunged at the chance to do.)