We started reading to Stella in utero. As soon as I read that she was capable of hearing outside sounds, her daddy would read books to her at night. It was pretty cute. He even tried to read a book to her in the hospital, but I don’t know how well she was paying attention.
After a brief break due to simple exhaustion and that new-parent sense of being overwhelmed, Will reinstated story time. With his goofy schedule, Stella’s stories come in the morning. We were given a ton of books at our baby shower as well as the pile we had amassed ourselves in the meantime. We’ve also continued to add to the pile just keep some variety. I’ll put it to you this way: Daddy gets bored more easily than Stella does.
Daddy also likes to add his unique twist to books. Sam I Am is, in fact, a pusher, and you should always Just Say No (there was also the bit about “not fucking liking Green Eggs and Ham,” but that sort of potty talk will soon have to be curtailed for risk of serious embarrassment). George and Martha the hippopotamuses become Laura and Will, and the split pea soup becomes my taco soup (legendary in its effects on Will’s colon). But Not the Hippopotamus becomes But Not the Hypothalamus. And then there are the voices. Will tries. He really does. But he gets his characters and voices mixed up halfway through the books so that everyone ends up sounding mentally disturbed.
It’s the cutest thing. I’d like to think that all of this reading will help her with language skills – to be a better reader, speller, and to have a kick ass vocabulary. At the very least, it’s a really great Stella-Daddy experience that they both seem to enjoy.