Did Someone Read to you as a child?

Please post your memories!

My mother, but not often. Being of the Irish Catholic persuasion, she and Dad were very much practitioners of creating as many babies as they possibly could. As such, over a span of 15 years, I'm one (in the middle) of ten; a mere 15 months younger than my next-older brother and those that followed were spaced on the average of two years apart.
So, there was rarely the time or energy for either of my parents to read to us. Regardless, I recall Mom (or MEL, as we referred to her as adults - her initials) reading Goodnight Moon to us when she did. Just that one book. But it didn't occur that often.
There's another thread here about how one learned to read. I haven't contributed my story to it yet, mostly because my original draft is eight pages long. I need to edit it with a machete first.

In contrast, I began reading to my own kids (three boys in 6 years, now in their 30s) from the day we brought the eldest home from the hospital; often three or four books a night. I stopped when the youngest wanted to read them instead of me. It was another three months of him reading to me, using new books, that we mutually agreed that it wasn't necessary for me to be there anymore. I read hundreds of books to them over the years, and Goodnight Moon was among them, but their favorites seemed to be There's a Monster at the End of the Book and Herbert, the Timid Dragon, although there were request for repeats of several others as well.

My mother rarely read to us. We read a lot to our son. All the Harry Potters, all the Edgar Eager books, a couple of Percy Jackson books (not wild about those), Huckleberry Finn, and some Bastable children books by E. Nesbitt.

Our gradeschool teachers usually had a chapter book going. I loved that. When the reading period was over, there would be a collective groan from the whole class. Stories included The Box Car Children, My side of the Mountain, a series about some rats on of which was a Norwegian, The Borrowers, and a couple of adventure science fiction books. I can see now that the teachers selected stories that would appeal to boys, but we all loved them.

P.S., I still enjoy an audio book in the evening. Never outgrew wanting to be read to.

My mother read to me from as early as I could remember-The Bible, The Gingerbread Man, Little Black Sambo, Henny Penny, and a lot of the little Golden Books as well as fairy tales. She didn't read a lot, but probably 3-5 times per week. as wholehouse, she had 3 children very close together, my sister is 11 months younger than myself, and my brother is only 10 months younger than my sister, so 3 children in 30 months. However, I was reading by myself by the age of 4, so all was well!

I read to my sons from the day the came home from the hospital; mostly Little Golden Books. When they were older, books such as The Borrowers, Runaway Ralph, Bunnicula, The Whipping Boy, Holes, and many Goosebumps books. I also read them to my grandchildren. I usually did not turn down by my kids request to read to them, unless I was in the middle of dinner and something would burn. I love it when m y 3 year old granddaughter wants me to read to her.

My mother didn't read to us. I was the youngest of three, and like some mentions here already, she seemed to have us in pretty quick order: for about 6 months out of each year, we are in chronological order (as in 10-11-12) with my sister being the oldest. My poor brother was flanked by sisters, being the middle child.

My mom was busy all day, and after she bathed or supervised our evening baths, she would get us into our rooms and into bed to hear our prayers. For some years, this ritual included curling up my hair and pinning it with these godawful clips that she criss-crossed to keep them in place all night. I whined about discomfort but was summarily ignored, as we moved to prayers as soon as she finished this deed.

Yet, like others here, I diligently read to my son, pretty much from the beginning. We progressed from hard-cardboard, large-lettered baby books like Pat the Bunny, to things like Dr. Seuss and general fairy tales, Peter Rabbit and the like. We moved on to things like You Will Go to the Moon. I'm trying to place a time when he quit asking for story time but can't; I was always ready and we had books everywhere - like I had growing up, though I read them myself.

>4 Tess_W: Holes was a good one!

My kid also liked Calvin and Hobbes and those Goosebumps books when we were camping. There was a used bookstore in the town nearby our campsite, and we'd go there on rainy days and get a bag of books for $5 or something.

My mother, an English teacher and librarian, did not read to us. My father, though, read to us every night.

I think I was read to occasionally. I remember both my dad and grandma reading to me. Grandma had a yellowed, cover less collection of stories that I remember begging her to read. There was a story about a little dog made of sugar that made me cry.

As a child, during World War II, my mother taught me my evening prayers in Latin. I didn't understand them but learned how to make the sounds. Last year, while doing some research about Books of Hours, I ran across the term Regum Eternum. I made the 75 year old connection.

Curious question.
As much as I appreciate books I do not recall ever being read to by my parents. With my two children, my son really enjoyed Dr Seuss and wanted a story almost nightly. His sister never cared one way or another. Their mother never read to them as I recall. Now as adults, he does enjoy reading and his sister does not read at all.

My mother and father both read to us. Sometimes my dad would try to skip over some pages to make the story move along, and we would always correct him, having heard the story enough times to recite it.

Not that I recall. Mom had an ever growing passel of little ones to feed, wash and put to bed. (I was second of eleven, each less than 18 months apart.) Dad didn’t participate in childcare tasks. My sister and I may have read to the younger ones after we learned to read. We had an excellent set of storybooks.
However, when I was a teen, my dad dug out his old college literature texts and he and I would explore the poetry in those books, reading aloud to each other.