I hope you’ll forgive the indulgence, but today marked a bit of a milestone for my boy. He’s in Reception at school and every week he brings a bedtime book home for us to read together. The more able children have been bringing home reading books since September, each week more and more of his classmates were taking home reading books and we wondered when he would be considered ready enough to start reading with us at home (although we’ve been reading to him and with him since before he was born). Today he brought home his first reading books and we couldn’t be more excited for him.
The first thing he wanted to do when he got home from school was to get his books out and read with us, I’m sure this level of enthusiasm won’t last but I love it. He has always enjoyed books and together we devour two, three, four books a night and I’m so pleased for him that he’s taking his first steps towards learning to read with school.
Reading is such a wonderful gift, being able to lose yourself in a good book does wonders for the soul. By learning to read the boy can visit different universes, different times, different lands. He can travel the world without ever leaving his room.
When he was Christened we asked that if people wanted to give him a present, that they gave him a copy of their own favourite childhood book, so he’s got a shelf of Roald Dahl books, Harry Potter , Alan Garner books, as well as Rupert Bear to tackle. I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but today was half a pixie step towards being an independent reader and I’m glad that he is as excited as I am about that.
As an aside, I know I should probably have been worried about him falling behind his peers, but I knew that he’d get it at some point. My brother didn’t read until he was older than Ben and he’s got a PhD now. They all develop at their own pace, but they usually get there in the end.