Tuesday, 23 April 2013


If you thought this was going to be a 'good mother' or even 'smug mother' post, you're sorely mistaken. The truth is, whilst I desperately want my boys to have a love of reading and enjoy being lost in the world of a book, I actually hate reading with them.

There, I've said it. The truth is out there now.

It's not that I hate reading TO them. Oh no, I love doing that (unless I've read the book more than a thousand times, and then it loses it's appeal). It's when they have to read to me. That's the bit I hate.

First of all we have the battle about them actually sitting down to read. I try my hardest to be positive, I really do. This is how my conversation went yesterday with Jonah.

Me: Jonah, we need to do your reading book. Oooh, it looks like a good one! Look! There's a rope swing on the front, and you love rope swings!
Jonah: I don't want to read it tonight.
Me: How about we just read a few pages? Just to see what happens with this rope swing.
Jonah: I'll read one page.
Me: How about five pages?
Jonah: Two.
Me: Four
Jonah: Three
Me: Four pages, and I'll play a game of Uno with you afterwards.
Jonah: Four pages, and you play two games of Uno with me.
Me: It's a deal.

Then when we finally get to the reading part, they suddenly have ants in their pants and can't keep still. They roll around the sofa, holding the book upside down which makes it even harder to read those tricky words. They turn the pages over too quickly, to see what will happen next. They get distracted by a brother playing Minecraft. They don't read the words they know well, but mess about and say different, silly words instead. They sound out words that don't need sounding out. They suddenly need a wee or even worse, a poo, in the middle of the reading time. Someone turns the TV on and their attention is instantly drawn away. It all takes far longer than it needs to. The whole process is painful, and tests my patience every single time.

And so, instead of helping them to work out words for themselves, I end up shouting the words at them. And I also impatiently say:
"Hurry up and turn the page."
"No, just let me hold the book in the right place."
"You've just read that line."
"You know what that says, just READ it!"

And all in all, it doesn't turn into the pleasant experience that I'd like it to be and the days when they can read to themselves are just heavenly.

So, there you have it. My bad mother confession. Now I've got that out of my system, I'd better go and do the reading books....

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