Read Me a Story

The best time of the day is when I have the opportunity to tuck the kids in bed. We have a little ritual that starts with them crawling under the covers, with me tucking them tight. This is followed by prayers. Then they look up at me with their bright eyes and utter those magic words, "Read me a story! Pleeeaaase!"

I can't resist and ask one of them to get a book.

Off fly the covers as one after another jump out of bed, looking for the biggest book they can find. Little do they know I have pulled all the thick books from their shelf, leaving only the quick reads for them to choose.

They negotiate briefly, grab their top choice, hand it over to me, and hop back in the sack.

I proceed to read the story, and they point out the pictures. If I should happen to skip a page, they know it. They demand I stop and read that which I missed.

Once the book is finished we go through the sparring of "Read us another," followed by "I need a drink." Eventually, I reach the point of getting them tucked in, giving them a kiss, and making my stealthy exit.

Research says children who are read to will be better readers. Research says children who have adults talk with them will be better at social interaction.

Now that's research I can get behind.

But the fact is whether or not research validates this bedtime approach with my kids doesn't make any difference. The time I spend praying and reading with them before they drift off to sleep is one of the best times of the day. Not surprisingly, just being with them leaves me with a warm spot in my heart.

I'm already thinking about the time -- in the not-too-distant future -- when they won't want me to tuck them in or read to them.

I will miss it.

Maybe I can take him fishing then.