Discovering the Magic

Last week, we reported the origins of Take Your Child to a Bookstore Day and about the value of children becoming acquainted with books and bookstores.

I’ve always been a big supporter of kids reading or being read to, but, until a few years ago, I never actually witnessed a child falling in love with a book. I had spent a summer babysitting an adorable five-year-old named Adam. His mother was from Dublin, his father was from Saudi Arabia, and they were fabulous. They had a gigantic house, a big-screen TV, and they were always decked out in designer clothes. But here’s the kicker: Adam did not have any books.

 The first time I told Adam it was time for bed, he argued, which was to be expected, since he was watching his favorite TV show. When he was watching, he was completely entranced, but not at all engaged.

 I told him that I would read him a story and he was unphased. I asked him to show me where he keeps his books, and he slowly brought me upstairs and pointed to one worn out book that sat on his desk. I asked him where they kept the rest, and he laughed. “That’s it,” he said, and I was in disbelief. So I picked up the book. Not only was it the only children’s book in their house, but it was a Disney movie tie-in. A bulky tome of brief recaps of every movie, complete with still images from the movies. This did not cut it. As I read it to Adam, it was clear that he was not interested in these stories, or perhaps just too familiar. He was clearly bored and saw it as an opportunity to further put off bedtime. He interrupted me with a list of a hundred things he had to do before going to sleep – like finish building his Lego castle, naturally, or drink a glass of chocolate milk. I closed the book and asked if his parents read to him. He said yes and pointed to the book I held in my hands. I soon realized that this book wasn’t even a story to him anymore; the only thing it represented was bedtime – something he clearly dreaded.

 When he finally went to sleep, I searched the house for a bookshelf, but it was nowhere to be found.

 The next night, I brought my own copy of Where’s My Teddy? – a book that is beloved in my family. It’s about a kid named Eddie, who lost his teddy, named Freddy. But here’s the thing: He lost him in the woods, which, in case you didn’t know, is totally scary. And during his search, (spoiler alert!) he sees an ACTUAL bear that lives in the woods, and that’s when it gets real.

 So when it was time for bed, Adam was suddenly hungry, and then thirsty, and then he had an uncontrollable desire to go on the swings. I revealed the book, and he was intrigued. He quickly put his pajamas on, and jumped into my lap. As soon as I started to read the story, he was hooked. When Eddie entered the woods, I felt his grip tighten around my knees. If I paused for a second (for dramatics, of course), he would look at me with wide and inquisitive eyes. I finished the story and he smiled, adding, “Can you read it one more time?”

 It amazed me that a child who had every luxury in the world did not have books. I had seen Adam watch TV and play with a basement filled with toys for days, and it wasn’t until I read to him that I saw his eyes light up. It was nothing short of magical.