Steph Beau

I love reading, but why do my boys treat books like broccoli?

When my sons were babies, I had an addiction to buying children’s books, with the intention of instilling a love of reading in them. Fast forward 20 years — did my efforts pay off?

All three of my sons loved the nighttime reading routine, and to prolong bedtime, they would choose new books to add to it. However, despite being exhausted, I read every night.

There’s a page in the ‘Berenstain Bears’ Bedtime Battle that sticks with me. Mama and Papa Bear slumped in their chair, drifting off, while the cubs were wide-eyed and alert. That feels like a snapshot of so many nights at my house.

When my eldest son was preschool age, our hot summer afternoons were spent with the Magic Tree House series by Mary Pope Osborne. He slurped on freezes while I read aloud, his eyes wide and attentive. Those chapter books were my gentle way of easing him into longer stories.

I recall in grades six and seven, my middle son had a stretch where he really enjoyed the Allen Gratz novels, but his interest tapered off.

Once cellphones, video games, and social media entered our household, the enthusiasm for reading faded. As for my youngest, he’s read the least of the three.

My children don’t read as much as I’d like, and perhaps as long as they read and understand a story, that’s what’s important.

They do well in school and have solid study habits, so as long as they are literate, I try not to worry too much about their lack of interest in reading books. Still, I can’t help but wish they would.

I’m glad I spent thousands of hours reading to my sons in the early years, even if they opt out of reading a book in their spare time. I believe that my efforts in reading to my boys built a solid foundation, and based on their performance at school, I’m okay with them not reading as much as I do.

Were my efforts wasted? Absolutely not. Do they choose to read books in their free time? Not really. Are they excelling academically, happy, and well-adjusted? Yes.

My eldest, whom I read to the most, is now an English major at a top university. Although watching sports fills his days more than reading novels, I know that the time we spent reading books together made a difference.

As for my middle and youngest, they’re not reading a lot these days, and I’ve made peace with it. Not reading books for leisure does not define intelligence.