When I was a kid I read all the time. On the bus, while walking, while eating and during the long afternoons after school where I was all alone at home. Nothing too heavy, of course, just random books from the library. None of the cool stuff that I can claim to be a fan of and collect collectibles for either, like Tin Tin comics or something. The only books that I can talk about and people would recognise are the Roald Dahl books, and to Singaporean children of the 80s, “True Singapore Ghost Stories”. Remember those? I used to huddle under blankets and read those under a torchlight with friends and scare ourselves silly.
Somehow all that reading never gave me a writer’s proise, or a wild imagination or encyclopedic knowledge. But I think enough of it went in by osmosis to give me an instinctive sense of “correct” use of the English and Chinese language. So I say reading never hurts.
And so I endeavour to cultivate a little reading machine in Sophia and initially it all seemed promising. She would sit in her rocker for as long as I am willing to read to her and not make a squeak. Then all of a sudden her attention span shortened dramatically and she was no longer content to sit and listen. She would grab the book this way and that, close it then open it and tap on it. Which I take to be a good sign, because she only taps things that she likes. Like mummy. Whenever I carry her she taps my chest. That’s the “love love mummy” action. Or so I say 🙂