Make Reading "Mo" Fun

Just yesterday, another study was released from the prestigious Institute for Reminding You of Your Parental Failings. The big, complex report clearly documents the connection between strong early reading habits and admission to Ivy League universities, successful careers, meaningful second marriages, boat ownership, chances of going to the moon, nice shoes, healthy teeth, antique guitars, cheeseburgers, France, gerbil care, and handsome physiques. Near the end of this (surprise!) unreadable paper on reading, the researchers recommend officially transforming reading from a pleasurable pastime into a guilt-inducing chore.

Fortunately, my daughter was too busy reading comic books to be bothered. Which is how it should be. Reading is not broccoli. It is — it can be — it should be — fun! "But how?" grumble the dazed Institute researchers.

It's simple: Make it cool. You may not know this, but you are a very cool person (to your kid, at least). Seriously, pretty much everything you do is cool. If you mow the lawn, that's cool. If you eat chocolate ice cream, that's cool. If you fart, that's gross. But, if you read, reading becomes cool. So . . . just read with your kids.

My kid has started reading books on her own, but there's no way she'll turn down a comfy lap, a ripping yarn, and the chance to let a story wash over her. Which brings me (finally!) to my first fun reading technique . . .

Read it wrong!
Let's say I'm reading a classic that my daughter has heard over and over again, like, oh, say: Knuffle Bunny: A Cautionary Tale by Mo Willems. Well, then I mix it up a bit, dramatically (and incorrectly) changing the title to Knuffle Monkey.

Reading it wrong has the advantage of helping my daughter decode spelling and vocabulary by correcting me and pointing to the real word, but more importantly, it makes her giggle. ("Monkey" is a fun word, by the way. It can turn all kinds of classics into goofy things like Make Way for Monkey; Where the Wild Things Monkey; and my favorite, Go, Dog, Monkey! I'm fairly certain "Turnip," "Buick," or "Insectivore" will work just as well . . . .)

Don't worry about upsetting the books by changing them — they can take it. Books aren't temples; they're playgrounds. They're meant to be played. Which (luckily) brings me to my next technique . . .

The play's the thing!
When choosing a book for my daughter, I look for ones that will engage her sense of play, so that more than simply saying, "Read it again!," she will begin to weave her own stories together using the premise or characters from the book she just enjoyed. After a really fun story, it's cool to go off and have an adventure based on the tale, taking on roles of the characters and expounding on cool things that happened (or might happen) to the story's heroes.

We might perform a little skit based on the book or fall into a game of pretend and continue the tale (books with sequels are fun for this game because we can go back and see how our games and the real books differed). For added fun, you can capture this imaginary leap in your own home movies.

We also occasionally scamper to my studio for a Group Draw (my wife might follow along, too) on a huge piece of paper where everyone can draw together. This is so cool because everyone is mixed up in the action, bouncing ideas off each other, sharing pencils, and taking off on flights of fancy.

Now, I'm not saying a Group Draw is guaranteed to get your kid so engaged in creative storytelling that it might lead him into a career as an author who occasionally gets paid by the word to write articles about reading. But, c'mon, that would be very, very, very, very cool, wouldn't it? And an excellent way to start him on that very, very, very exciting career path is with the . . .

Insto book report!
Now that my kid has become a reader in her own right, we sometimes find ourselves reading together, only with different books. But every time she finishes a chapter, I put my book aside for an Insto Book Report! My daughter recaps the salient parts of her chapter ("They found the key and are looking for a new clue!"), which helps her reading comprehension. Then we hear the title of the next chapter ("The New Clue!") and ruminate on what will happen next. ("I think they'll find a clue!" "Probably an old one, right?" "No, Daddy, I think the clue will be new!" "Monkey!")

Often the book my kid has chosen to read is more exciting than mine, particularly if mine is another one of those reports by the Institute, laboriously pointing to reams of statistics about kids who (just like me when I was young) don't like reading. They call these children "Reluctant Readers." (Back when I was a kid, they were called "boys.")

Reluctant reading is hardly fatal; it's easily cured by a few doses of fun books. Go ask your bookseller, librarian, teacher, kids, friends, or visit my pal Jon Scieszka's rockin' GuysRead.com to find some cool books. (My daughter finds books there.) Oh, and Calvin and Hobbes counts.

So, the next time you want to spend some time with your little scamp, there's no need to pull out a seriously improving volume and intone, "Hey, Junior. It's time for another important sociologically endorsed literary skill-building exercise, statistically proven to insure you don't move back into the house when you're 24."

Just say, "Yo, scamp. Let's have some fun. Monkey."