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I simply couldn't turn the pages fast enough. It's not often that I find a book like that. But when I do, look out. I'll carry it with me and read a page here and a page there until I am finished.
Crime mysteries are the best. For Jeffery Deaver fans, Lincoln Rhyme is my hero.
But I remember a time when Laura Ingalls Wilder, Nancy Drew and Anne Shirley were my heroes. I spent many a night hidden under my covers with a flashlight, reading of long winters on the prairie, after-school undercover surveillance and an orphan's life in Avonlea.
Books have always been a part of my life. They've been my best friend when I was lonely as well as an escape from the grind of everyday chores.
My parents both like to read, as does my brother. Dad likes to read about politics and war, while Mom prefers romances. My brother will choose science fiction over most anything else.
My husband enjoys reading, too, and we first became friends years ago when we shared books. Though most of his reading time is spent with schoolbooks now as he plows through his master's degree.
I've tried to instill a love of reading in my children as well, though I've not been as successful as I'd like.
My eldest son will devour Harry Potter and a good war story. If it's a book about anything else, though, good luck.
My 11-year-old son, though, insists that he hates reading with a passion. It's hard to believe he's the same toddler who would sit in my lap and insist, "Momma, read it again," when it came to children's stories.
My husband and I are still searching for the perfect "snag" that will grab his interest.
My nearly 8-year-old daughter, I suppose, is the one I must pin my literary hopes on. Her current goal is to earn 50 more Accelerated Reader points so she can be "Teacher for a Day" again.
That was an interesting prize all its own.
The only major problem she has in school is her inability to keep her mouth closed when she's supposed to.
But by mid-morning of her special day, she had made an astonishing discovery: "I know it's probably hard to believe," she said, "but I think I've talked too much."
So I gave in that evening. She climbed into my lap and I read to her. But after "working" all day, she fell asleep nearly an hour before her regular bedtime.
Which meant that I got some extra time to read myself.
Me and Lincoln ... solving crimes together. Now how cool is that?