I am a book hoarder. I am a nerd. I carry a book in my giant purse and I am not ashamed. I am “that” person that gives books as gifts.
My siblings never appreciated a good book, but when I became a mother, I saw it as an opportunity to share my love of books with someone. He saw me reading and enjoying books, it was simple to pass that love along. However, when my sister got pregnant, one of her first comments was, “You aren’t going to get my kid a book for holidays, are you?” She definitely does not share my passion. I knew without a reader as a parent, it wouldn’t be as simple, but I was determined to make my nephew a reader.
I ignored her protests, of course, and get her son books for every holiday beginning be
fore he was born.
This Christmas I knew my mission was a success. I handed my two and a half year old nephew a book wrapped up in red paper. He ripped the paper off, throwing it to the side, raised the book up and exclaimed, “Beautiful Book!”