In my recent post about my trip to the Emmitsburg Antique Mall, which you can find here, I mentioned the collection of American Girl books and memorabilia. When I tell you I was obsessed with American Girl as a little kid, I mean I was obsessed with American Girl as a kid. It combined two of my favorite things in the world: learning about history, and of course, reading.

Looking back on my childhood, a lot of my earliest memories of reading were so special to me because those were often my favorite memories of spending time with my dad. He would take me to the local library every week or two, and we’d go look at the American Girl books together to pick out our next read. See, my dad was always the “bedtime story” parent, and we would usually read American Girl books together. It was our special thing.

My mom didn’t want me staying up too late, so she always told us we could “read one chapter, then lights out.” Sometimes though, I would get too excited to find out what happens next (I especially remember the suspense of waiting to see what happened to Kit and her friend when they got stuck in a boxcar on a runaway train in Kit Saves The Day) and my dad would sneakily read me an extra chapter or two. Sometimes my older brother would come into my room to listen to Dad read as well.

Other times, my dad would weave an adventurous tale starring little me and a chipmunk (I was obsessed with this little chipmunk who lived in the bush by our front door) climbing higher and higher in a treehouse-like tower, knocking on doors until we found whoever it was we were looking for in the tree tower that night. When he got to the part with the doors, he would always say “knock knock knock” while tapping on my forehead with his knuckles. I remember how much I always loved that part when I was a kid, so when my almost-5-year-old niece spent the night at my in-laws’ house recently, I totally stole the idea when I was telling her a bedtime story and she laughed and laughed.

The first time I ever read a book out loud to myself, I was three years old. My mom was at work, and my dad was watching me and my brother when, much to his surprise, I picked up Green Eggs and Ham and read it aloud. My mom once told me that when she got home, the first thing my dad said was, “You won’t believe what Maddie did today!” He had no idea I could already read.

Another of my earliest memories of learning to read involves my dad helping me with my letters. I was repeating back every letter perfectly until we got to “R.” Because of his Irish brogue, I had trouble mimicking him. I remember him saying, “No, it’s R,” and I would respond, mimicking his accent, “That’s what I’m saying! ORE!”

Encouraging children to love reading is so important—not just for academic success but also for the bond it creates between generations. Storytelling has been a cornerstone of culture worldwide for centuries. I don’t think I’ve ever told my dad this, but a lot of my love for reading came from him, and I credit that as a big part of how I became the person I am today.