Just a short entry after a long weekend in Toronto. Although I didn’t have the chance to do any writing, I did learn, or to be more precise was reminded, that my love of reading and of passing on that joy began at an early age.
Apparently, when I was five and my brother was three, I was instrumental in teaching him to read earlier than any of his fellow three-year-old brethren. I’m not sure what spurred me to teach him. Perhaps it was the simple fact that I wanted my brother to experience the great impact that words can have on our lives. Perhaps I felt it was a reflection on me if he could read that early. Maybe I just wanted to give him a leg up in life.
Of course, it may have also been that we simply came to a business arrangement. After all, I did get first dibs on playing with his birthday gifts for the next few years.
Whatever the reason was (and don’t worry, he would always get his toys back), I’m glad that I was able to teach my brother that books are the best portal to wherever he wants to go. Hopefully, I’ve passed that on to all my brothers, and it’ll be something I pass on to my own children as well.
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