When I was young, I loved to read when I knew how to read. I always had a book in hand. That really helped me with my compositions and I recalled how I used to ace those writing tests.
Fast forward to being a mother to a P2 boy, whose first instinct was not to read. Granted, kids these days had so many more distractions and activities. When Z wasn’t swimming, he was playing soccer. When it wasn’t soccer, it was tennis. When it wasn’t tennis, it was assessment books or homework. Play was also important, so we set aside time for play dates and going out.
By the time Z was free at home, he spent whatever balance time on his toys such as lego and hot wheels.
I had to remind, or more like nag, him to bring a book wherever he went to get him into the habit of reading. In my opinion, he read little.
It surprised me when we saw an old movie on TV and were guessing the movie title, Z said,”That’s Ender’s Game. It’s a story that I read in the school library before.”
While he might not be a voracious reader, I was happy that he was finally reading more.